Love & War 1a: All's Fair
by scribblemyname
Summary: Rogue beats the Prince of Thieves at a game of poker in exchange for a month of slave labor. Romy
1. The Match

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Of course, the characters, universe, etc. isn't mine. Can't blame me for pretending? I promise not to get too scattered (despite starting 3 chaptered fics at once). My muses just wouldn't let up in their sweet torture.

I know no French. If you find mistakes, please let me know. I edit quickly.

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**All's Fair**

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Chapter One: The Match

__

All's fair in love and war.

-

"Mon Dieu! You're killing me, chère."

Rogue merely smirked. She had been preparing for this moment for months, training with Logan, reading books, and honing her instincts. She worked her way up slowly, beating out the lesser ranks, eventually defeating Logan himself.

Finally, she had challenged the resident thief, poker master, and ladies man to a duel, winner get a month of slavery from the other. His eyes had glowed redder at the thought. Clearly, having her as a slave for a month appealed.

So they had sat down without powers, alcohol, or cheating, with Logan and Emma—brawn and brain—for referees, and the match began.

Early on, Remy appeared to be winning. She made him work for it. Both appeared smooth, blasé, leaning back in their seats and sipping on water and soda. About halfway through and even on wins and losses, his red and black eyes met her green ones. She saw the recognition in his own. That she was holding back. That she wasn't the same Rogue he whipped at cards a year ago. She smiled then, a soft smile that told him nothing.

"Having fun, Swamp Rat?"

"Just wondering what you're up to, chère."

She laughed wickedly. "I'm out to win."

The game continued in earnest. Both hunkered down and plied their skills, effortlessly dealing, counting, and playing cards. Her eyes glittered greenly. His glowed red. The flirtatious banter continued (he was probably incapable of stopping _that_), but otherwise, all was now much more serious.

Then, her final coup, winning as she had threatened him twelve months ago she would.

Rogue merely smirked at his helpless expression. He eyed her warily.

"A month?"

"A month, _slave_."

Emma laughed and Logan slapped his back.

The White Queen twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "She didn't cheat. Not once."

Remy measured Rogue again. "A month?"

Rogue merely smirked.

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	2. Sans Pitié

Of course, the characters, universe, etc. isn't mine. Can't blame me for pretending?

I know no French. If you find mistakes, please let me know. I edit quickly.

I also know no poker (except what Wikipedia has to say). Thank you, RogueNya, for pointing me in the right direction! If I royally screw up y'all, just shout me out.

And thank you for the reviews! Any ideas, just let me know.

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French translation(s):

_sans pitié _- without mercy

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**All's Fair**

**Chapter Two: Sans Pitié**

_All's fair in love and war._

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**Day One, 1st Hour, 10th Minute**

Remy had never for a moment thought that he would lose. And now for the next thirty-one days (or 744 hours or—best not to think of minutes), he was entirely at Rogue's mercy.

Remy knew from personal experience, Rogue had no mercy.

He growled in frustration and paced his bedroom while holding his head in his hands and trying vainly to find some way he could have played it differently. Won.

They knew what their big blind was from the beginning. The slavery. But for fun, they opted to work terms as bets.

**Round One:**

Start time. Rogue had yawned and called for start time of 5:00 am following the game. He'd raised her, went for midnight. She grinned lazily. He won that round, two out of three.

Slavery began at midnight directly following the game. His win. Wake up calls were a viable labor available (no way that Rogue would be wanting to get up the next morning; Remy, of course, said he'd be fine). Her win. Duration would be the length of the longest month, namely thirty-one days. His win.

His grim smile at that.

**Round Two:**

Acceptable labors. Rogue seriously won this two out of three hands. One of his first clues, something was afoot. (Who taught that femme to play!)

He'd gone for physicality (or at least trying; he may not have known her well, but he _did_ know she had killer skin). She'd slapped that down with a full house on top of his flush of hearts (yes, he'd been making a point).

Rogue bet any physical labor, including but not limited to errands, chores, bodyguarding, and general _non-contact_ manual labor. He'd been dealt a made hand, four of a kind. Unless she had something real special going on (_and she had a fabulous poker face!_), then he had her. He called without raising. They drew. He won. She smiled slightly, having learned he bluffed.

Remy decided to bet the house: any kind of labor whatsoever, providing it neither broke rules (at Logan's forceful suggestion) or dignity (disregarding earlier clauses regarding manual labor), was eligible. Rogue raised to drop the dignity clause. Lousy sucker, he went for it. And lost. The femmehad a straight flush to his full house. Of course, this was after he re-raised for required company being dubbed "labor."

**Round Three:**

Punishment for misbehavior. He won the hands solid. In summary, punishment of the slave could be anything the imagination of the winner devised, provided it was acceptable by Xavier's house and, if applicable, school rules.

Never should have gone there.

Remy groaned, still pacing, and glanced at the clock by his bed. 2:30 a.m. A slave and already dreading it, though his mistress was sound asleep.

He sat down.

They went six more rounds. The slave's schedule belonged to Storm first, but afterwards to the winner. The winner had to provide any funds if required for slave to accomplish duties and assignments. The slave had to be available to help with classwork if required (Remy had liked that one especially, as he was a much worse teacher than he was a thief). Thievery was not allowed by the slave in the completion of his assignments (this was after she let on that she was playing like a poker master). No arbitration was available for the slave. Clothing and general appearance of the slave could be determined by the winner.

Finally, they played to take the pot.

**Round Ten:**

This time, it was only one hand and Remy's was anything but a made one. The Ten of Spades, the Ten of Diamonds, the Ten of Clubs. The Jack of Diamonds and the Queen of Diamonds. He could draw for four of a kind (easier to achieve perhaps) or for a straight flush in Diamonds (more valuable).

Rogue made an infinitesimal frown at her cards before blanking her face like a stone. Emma Frost smirked.

He'd bet money she had a drawing hand too. Of course, not _his_ money.

Remy called. Rogue called.

They drew.

He traded in his Club and Spade and got back the Nine and Eight of Diamonds. It had been a risk, but unless the femme went royal, the hand was his.

Remy had never thought for a moment he would lose.

Until she lay down a Ten of Hearts (good thing he hadn't gone for four of a kind!), a Jack of Hearts (this wasn't looking good), a Queen of Hearts (this was impossible!), a King of Hearts (he was speechless), and the Ace.

No mercy. He knew from _personal_ experience that Rogue had no mercy at all.

**Day One, 4th Hour, 28th Minute**

The Prince of Thieves had finally fallen into some kind of a fitful sleep when his cell phone began a violent assault on his dream world. He stumbled out of the bed and opened it.

"Gambit." His voice betrayed nothing but the perfect thief for hire.

"Hey, sugar," Rogue's sexy voice said breezily. "I just finished a session with Emma and I need a wake-up call in _exactly_ one hour. 5:30 sharp, ya hear?"

He sank back onto his covers. _5:30 a.m.?_ Didn't she know he needed sleep too? But as he toyed with it, ideas came to mind. Not unpleasant ones. Thoughts and images of her sleeping flitted through his consciousness. "Certainly, chère. I'll wake you up."

Something in his tone must have tipped her off. "Just _call_, Swamp Rat," she snapped.

From sugar to rat in a matter of seconds.

"You wound me, chère."

"The only thing _wounded _is your pride. Here's Kitty's cell number." She drawled out her roommate's phone number.

"Kitty's? What about yours?" Remy grinned. "_You_ need the wake-up call, non?"

He heard some shuffling of papers and _something_, then a thump and Rogue's voice again. "If you'd ever heard the obnoxious ringtone she has for when you call, you'd know it's more than sufficient to wake _you_ after one of your drunken binges—"

He sat straight up at that. "Chère!"

"—from _here_!" Rogue huffed. "So call Kitty. Five thirty. And you don't have to wait for her to answer."

She hung up.

Remy swore softly at his cell phone in French. He'd wake her up. He set his own alarm for another forty-five minutes.

**Day One, 5th Hour, 30th Minute**

At 5:30 a.m. sharp, Remy picked up the phone and tapped out Kitty's number.

She picked up fairly quickly. A groggy voice demanded, "Hello?"

"Morning, petite," Remy replied smoothly. "This is your wake up call."

"My what?" Kitty squealed.

He winced.

"Wake up—" Kitty's _loud_ voice stopped abruptly. "Oh. _Her_ wake up call."

"Oui. Time she be up."

Kitty broke out into giggles. "You should see her, Gambit. She's running around this room looking for the rest of her clothes."

He could hear angry shouting in the background, but his curiosity was piqued. "And what is the Rogue wearing?"

"Remy!"

Remy grinned. He had apparently shocked her enough to get his proper name. "Well, what is she?" He had all sorts of ideas of what Rogue wore to bed. More interesting the idea that she might be getting dressed.

"You're evil!" Kitty choked out between giggles. "I can't tell you that. Rogue!"

"Non. Merci." Remy withdrew hurriedly. "Rogue not be needing to know I asked."

_No arbitration was available for the slave._

Kitty snickered.

"He wanted to know what you were wearing." A slight pause. "Or weren't."

Remy cringed and a shriek in the background assured him that Rogue would exact revenge. He hung up the phone and stared at it.

Remy knew from personal experience, Kitty had no mercy.


	3. Danger in the Room

Of course, the characters, universe, etc. aren't mine.

Would have gotten them to the mall, but really wanted to do that through Remy's POV. Thanks for the edit, laenamoradadeROGUE.

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**All's Fair **

**Chapter Three: Danger in the Room**

_All's fair in love and war._

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**Day One, 5th Hour, 38th Minute**

Rogue passed through the boy's dorm on her way to the Danger Room—if "passed" isn't too polite of a word for her stormy progress. She startled quite a few of the high-school age boys, having caught a few without shirts on, and worked up quite a temper and a small audience by the time she banged on the Cajun's door.

Remy opened it, looking the part of perfect gentleman. "Oui, ma chère_? _How may I be of assistance?"

She narrowed her eyes at his easy nonchalance and slid her hands to her hips. "I'll be done with Logan in an hour. When I get back, there better be a _very good_ Cajun breakfast waiting for me."

"A pleasure to serve, chère," he replied smoothly with a bow.

She had forgotten just how charming he could be when he wanted to, but with her current mood was rather unimpressed.

"Or weren't?" she asked dangerously.

Remy sighed and ran a hand through tousled auburn hair. "And have you decided the punishment?"

"It involves torture." She sized him up once again and decided his gift for defusing tense situations was just that and not an indicator of how he felt about them. "One hour," she warned. "And shave?"

Some of the boys behind her gave a snicker, but she ignored them, instead continuing her royal progress and heading for the Danger Room. Rogue decided that Logan would be feeling it today.

**Day One, 6th Hour, 43rd Minute**

Bell pepper, onion, celery, cayenne, bay leaf…

Rogue sniffed appreciatively as she entered the kitchen and settled in a chair to watch the Cajun cook.

He was a master, and he moved with an easy grace in the kitchen. Some would look at his creations and find them a little _plain_ and _brown_, but it was the real authentic deal and tasted heavenly to Rogue's south-deprived taste buds.

For the last thirteen months since Remy had arrived at the mansion, looking for Storm and catching the bad end of a bet she had won from him, Rogue had most appreciated his southernness. Of course, he had to ruin that by immediately hitting on her, _then every other available girl in the mansion_, before unwisely winning away her dignity in poker. Then of course, like most men, he didn't even realize she was fuming about it until she won away _his_ last night.

She smirked again remembering.

"Morning, chère." He didn't even glance her way, just slid her a very full plate and handed her a glass.

"Merci_._" She could be a _little_ polite when it suited her.

This time he did look up. Smoldering red on black eyes a girl could drown in met hers. The man was handsome. And charming. And interested in anything female with legs on that didn't have a man already. Well, Emma and Logan kept him from _acting_ on interest in a girl that had a guy already.

"So what's the punishment?" he asked, leaning casually against the counter. His devil-may-care attitude was yet another reason she'd loved beating him at cards. "Chinese water?"

"No." Rogue set down her glass. "American shopping."

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and she frowned. She hadn't even noticed he'd been tense.

"I happen to be a very good judge of female attire," he said with his usual charm.

"I know." She smiled sweetly. "And Jubilee, Kitty, Emma, and I will want your opinion on _everything_."

Remy blanched. "Firecracker?"

Rogue turned her voice saccharine sweet. "You know Jubilee will just be delighted to have a man that _is a very good judge of female attire_ to help us out and carry the bags."

"Merde!"

"No cussing in the kitchen, Gumbo." Logan came in, claws out, looking like he just came out of a particularly rough Danger Room session, and pulled down a mug to get coffee. "A kid comes in here, and you'd be hearing it everywhere."

"You cuss too!" Remy objected.

"Don't bother Logan," Rogue tossed off and dug into breakfast, effectively silencing the conversation.

Remy's red eyes glowed hypnotically as he stared at her. He was miffed. She caught it in the line of his body. He wasn't used to being ordered around like that. Or maybe he just didn't like it.

"We leave right after school's out," she informed him a few minutes later. She handed him her empty plate.

Logan watched with interest.

"Careful, homme," Remy threw at him. "Next time, she might get you."

"Nah." The Wolverine downed the dregs of his coffee. He grinned wolfishly. "I taught her how to play. I'll never bet the house on her."

Remy's jaw dropped. "_You_ taught the femme_?"_

Logan and Rogue both laughed as they joined each other on their way out, leaving Remy with the dishes.


	4. Le Calvaire du Shopping à l'Américaine

Of course, the characters, universe, etc. aren't mine.

Thanks for the edit on the title, **myriadne**! All of Remy POV chapters will be title in French.

Thank you for the flood of reviews, all! I hope I got them all in my responses.

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French translation(s):

_Le Calvaire du Shopping à l'Américaine_ - American Shopping Torture

_hein_ - huh

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**All's Fair **

**Chapter Four: Le Calvaire du Shopping à l'Américaine**

_All's fair in love and war._

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**Day One, 15th Hour, 39th Minute**

"They're late," Rogue snapped as she slid into the passenger seat of Remy's car.

"Ah, chère. They'll be here soon." He couldn't resist grinning at her despite her irritation. But nine minutes after classes let out wasn't _that_ much after school.

She gave him the emerald death glare.

Remy grinned like a Cheshire cat. The first rule he'd learned about bluffing the opposition was never lose your cool. He'd already lost it more than once in this crazy bet, but he didn't intend on doing it again.

Rogue suddenly turned toward him and, narrowing her eyes, looked him over carefully. Then she sighed. "You'll do."

He raised both eyebrow. "Excusez_-_moi?"

Just then, the girls decided to appear. Emma would _not_ do if he guessed Rogue's standards even somewhat correctly. Her top could hardly be called one. Jubilee was swinging a HUGE purse excitedly and chattering nonstop to Kitty who had a sizable amount of shopping bags.

"The stores give you bags here, non?" he asked, indicating Kitty.

Rogue laughed. "She's on a green thing. Reusable canvas."

"And _she'll_ do, chère_?_" He pointed at Emma as the White Queen entered the back seat.

"I will always do," Emma said with a royal wave.

Rogue smiled lazily. "I wouldn't push it with her, Swamp Rat. Oh, and no stealing?"

It was worded as a question but it certainly wasn't one. He cranked up the stereo. Rogue cringed at the blast of rockiness that came blaring out.

She killed it. "No music today." Then glared at him. "And no smoking."

He clenched his jaw, popped on his shades, and answered, "No problem."

**Day One, 16th Hour, 3rd Minute**

Living this close to the mall with Jubilee had to be a health hazard. First of all, he thought _he_ was good at getting through a crowd? He had nothing on Firecracker in her determined march through the masses into the mall entrance to Macy's. He kept up only by grabbing hold of a female, since the shoppers seemed to decide that only females belonged, which meant getting continually slapped by Emma and Rogue (and she slapped hard!) since Kitty would just phase away.

"So grabby today," Emma said inside the store as she coolly evaluated a skimpy camisole top. "I thought you _liked_ shopping."

"He likes _thieving_," Rogue corrected.

Jubilee didn't bother to comment or ask. She merely decided that better things were in another section, "See you girls!" and yanked Remy by his duster in the appropriate direction.

Remy struggled to maintain his balance as she continued her Juggernaut-style march into the Women's night clothes section.

"Petite, are you sure I'm the best companion for this part?"

Firecracker turned and gave him the chocolate death glare. "I need help picking some PJs that don't advertise sex, but _do_ look cute," she replied with a miffed, turned up nose.

"I don't know, petite," he answered smoothly. "I rather like those teddy bear pants you've got going."

His whole body tingled and felt incredibly weird as Kitty phased through him to reach Jubilee. "Nonsense," the phaser said breezily. "That's not the kind of cute we're going for."

Girls and their definitions of cute. They must have had a million. He groaned internally, but made himself lounge comfortably in the chair next to the dressing room. He sized Jubilee up.

"No sex, _hein_?"

Emma breezed by. "Of course not! She's far too young!"

Jubilee's chin came up.

"But this..." Emma fingered a white negligee. She started flipping for her size.

"Where's Rogue?" Remy glanced around for her.

"Whoa! Remy!" Firecracker waved her hand in front of his face. "You're supposed to be helping _me_!"

He turned back. "Oui." He glided out of his chair, pulling on the charm, and fished up a silky black tank top and matching long pants in her size. "Try these."

She stared at them, eyes wide. "They don't say sex?"

Emma glanced over. "Definitely not."

Kitty grinned. "They come close though," she squealed. "Try them on."

"This was not what I had in mind," Rogue said harshly.

Remy turned to her and saw she had her arms crossed and her eyes sparkled more than usual. If he wasn't mistaken, she was about five minutes away from tears.

"Perhaps there was something else you needed, non?" He slipped his arm around her waist and she blinked in surprise as he led her away from the lingerie. "I'm having too much fun; not enough punishment," he said as excuse.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh?"

Anything for a femme, right?

"I'm sure you'll fix that," he added reassuringly.

"I'm sure I will, _Swamp Rat_." She shoved his hands away and led on.

But he grinned. She had been grateful somewhere deep in that femme heart. Then he winced. She'd probably make him pay for that too.

**Day One, 16th Hour, 52nd Minute**

"Makeup!" cried Jubilee with an unwavering excitement that had Remy groaning.

This was their third store and he was already loaded down with about eighteen bags. Emma hung her handbag on his arm and began to appraise the models cynically. Make that nineteen.

He decided to count to a hundred in French to help himself get through this. He _never_ carried this much at a go.

Rogue merely grinned at him as she fingered an expensive perfume. A gleam came into her eye.

_Mon Dieu_. _What would she think of next?_

"Remy, come over here," she drawled.

He obeyed grudgingly.

"I need to pick out a perfume for the party next week."

"Party?"

She put a gloved finger to her lips. "Kitty's birthday."

The surprise party. He'd forgotten in all the fuss of the bet.

_"_Oui. And how can I help you, chère?"

She picked up two testers. "_Temptation_ or _Erotica?"_

He raised both eyebrows. "You, ma chère, are both."

Her startled flush warmed him, but then she narrowed her eyes again. "But I have to pick _one_." She sighed and slid her gloves off carefully.

Remy swallowed but maintained a calm expression. He'd never seen Rogue without her gloves on and it was, well, erotic.

She spritzed the first tester on one wrist and held it out with a raised eyebrow. He sniffed appreciatively.

"The other." He handed her the second bottle.

She used it on her other wrist and held that out.

He tilted his head appraisingly. "_Erotica_."

"Did you just pick her perfume?" Jubilee asked excitedly.

He groaned inwardly.

Rogue smiled wickedly. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to help you two as well."

"Really?" Kitty manufactured the widest smile he'd ever seen on a fille's face.

**Day One, 18th Hour, 17th Minute**

At 6:17 p.m., he stumbled out of the mall drenched in the smell of twelve different perfumes and carrying about fifty bags from different stores. He managed to get them into the trunk just barely.

Rogue smiled at him as she slid gracefully into the passenger seat. "We should do this again."

"Oh, totally!" Jubilee enthused as Kitty nodded vigorously.

"I rather enjoyed it," Emma condescended to say.

Remy desperately needed a smoke.


	5. Friday Night Fights

Of course, the characters, universe, etc. aren't mine.

Internet translators. Read French with caution.

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French translation(s):

_Mes tourmentés_. – My tormentors.

_Est-ce que je pourrais dormir? _- Could I sleep?

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**All's Fair **

**Chapter Five: Friday Night Fights**

_All's fair in love and war._

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**Day One, 18th Hour, 22nd Minute**

Rogue smiled into the breeze as Remy drove his convertible back toward the mansion. She _had_ enjoyed herself and had about eight or nine of her own bags to prove it. She kicked back the seat, let down her hair, and pulled off her gloves to take advantage of the cool wind on a summer afternoon and listened idly to the girl talk behind her in the back seat.

Suddenly, she became aware of another murmur of sound. She glanced over at Remy and saw him flipping cards in one hand and driving with the other lazily guiding the wheel.

"Remy LeBeau!" she screeched. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

If he hadn't been driving, Rogue would have lunged for the cards. As it was, Remy merely gave her an annoyed look.

"It's that or a cigarette, chère, 'less you want me charging this here wheel."

She swiped the cards out of his hand, opened the glove department viciously, and exchanged the deck for a pack.

"Here, Swamp Rat. _One_."

"Merci, ma chèrie."

"I'm not your darling nothing," she snapped back.

He smirked and lit up with a touch of a finger. Emma, Kitty, and Jubilee immediately protested loudly.

"Not in the car!" Jubilee whined.

Rogue shushed them with a hand. "Oh, he's been so nice today, I had to let him." She had no intention of telling them that he had successfully threatened her.

Remy rolled his eyes.

Payback. She flipped the radio station to her favorite station and cranked it up.

Remy cringed. "Mes tourmentés_._ Pop music torture now?"

She laughed at him and his genuine horror. Kitty and Jubilee were singing loudly to the chorus. Emma tapped her hand to the beat.

"I like it," Rogue said with a smile.

Remy set his face grimly and locked his eyes on the road.

**Day One, 23rd Hour, 40th Minute**

A lovely afternoon went sour soon after Kitty went to bed. It was a Friday night, which meant late night ice cream, girl chats with any female that dared to enter, and modeling the clothes they bought. Which meant Rogue got an earful about romantic touchy-feely relationships and saw Jubilee and Kitty's new night clothes with all their wonderful, painful potential.

It was tough being the one girl who couldn't have it all when she couldn't have anything.

So after the ice cream and bubbly effusiveness of her roommate wore off, Rogue tried unsuccessfully to sleep. Lost cause. She kept thinking, kept remembering, kept _wanting_.

Rogue huffed and slipped out of her bed, glided softly toward her closet, and pulled down a soft, clingy lace negligee, the only sexy nightclothes she had. She ran a bare hand over the maroon fabric and sighed wistfully. Suddenly, she flung the slip onto her dresser and threw herself on the bed.

She would _not_ cry.

A sheet of paper on the nightstand by the phone caught her eye. Emma had given both Remy and her a copy of the terms they'd agreed to at the end of their poker match.

Rogue reached for the phone and hesitated only a moment before dialing Remy's room. It rang twice.

"Gambit." His voice was matter-of-fact as always, but this time, it held a hint of real irritation.

"Remy?"

A long silence ensued. Just when she thought he wasn't going to speak at all, he did.

"Chère. You're cute and all, but phone sex at midnight isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"Gambit!" She sat up straight in bed. This time he had really gone too far! The nerve of him!

"What do you _want_?" he demanded with enough growl in his voice to compete with Logan.

It startled her a little to realize he used sex as a cover for anger. She sighed deeply and let it go. "Could you sleep?" It was always the polite way to start into the _I couldn't sleep_ conversation.

"Could I sleep?" Remy repeated in absolute incredulity.

"That is what I asked," she said with some annoyance.

"Let me get this straight, chère." His voice made it clear that he couldn't believe she was asking him. "We stay up 'til almost midnight on a school night playing poker, you wake me at a ridiculous hour this morning, haul me out of bed to make _your_ breakfast, drag me along to fifteen different stores, have me lug enough bags to make up _Logan's_ weight again, send me to the store at 10:00 at night to pick up _ice cream_, then wake me up from my well-deserved rest at nearly midnight again, and you're wondering if I could _sleep_?"

Rogue stared wide-eyed at her mirror when he let loose his tirade. "Yes," she whispered.

He gave a strangled groan. _"Est-ce que je pourrais dormir?"_ he muttered darkly to himself.

She pulled herself up sharply. "Seeing as I _won_ the bet, I'm perfectly allowed to call you whenever I want."

"Oui. But I'm not required to be nice about it." Apparently, the charm was worn out for the evening.

She narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn't see her. "Required company was deemed labor, Swamp Rat." Her voice softened. "I just want to talk. You don't have to listen if you don't want to."

Remy gave a long-suffering sigh and settled down. "Proceed."

She could practically see his magnanimous gesture accompanying the word.

Now that he was calm, she didn't know what to say. She'd had so much to say when she first dialed his number. She took a deep breath.

"Sometimes I just wish I could touch people."

She stopped there. There was silence on the other end. She sighed again.

"Just seeing Kitty and Jubilee today..."

"Not Emma?"

"No! She's different," Rogue concluded quickly. Then realized he'd sounded genuinely interested. "I just sometimes wonder why _me?_ Why was I the one life decided couldn't have anything?" She almost forgot who she was talking to as the feelings overtook her. "Why can't I keep a boyfriend or have sex or children? _Why?_" Her voice broke.

"Whoa, chère_._" Remy panicked. "You can talk, but don't start crying on me."

Suddenly, she was laughing in the middle of her tears. The sobs were less painful now. "Oh, Remy. What is it with guys and tears. You'd think you'd melt or something."

"Feeling better, chère?" His voice was tentative. Maybe he was afraid she'd cry again.

"No," she said. Then she thought about it. "A little."

"It's Bobby as was the fool. Not you."

She choked on that.

"You're not crying again, are you?" The panic was back.

"Goodnight, Remy," she said softly and hung up the phone. Then she curled up under her covers and went to sleep.


	6. Les Filles et le Chocolat

Of course, the characters, universe, etc. aren't mine.

Thanks **RogueOnFire** for the idea behind this chapter! Thank you also all for your ideas (I've got 30 more days, so any ideas not used now will probably see write-time later), comments, and reviews. I desperately need all of those I can get so my fragile author ego thinks it's okay to continue writing. LOL

On the side: For those of you who read _Fight and Shadow_, I need a new summary for that fic and if anyone thinks of one that I use, I'll write them the Romy one-shot of their choice. (I've tried coming up with a new summary on my own, but all I can do is hold my head and groan.)

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French translation(s):

_Les Filles et le Chocolat_ - Girls and Chocolate

_Est-ce que je pourrais dormir? _- Could I sleep?

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Six: Les Filles et le Chocolat**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Two, 3rd Hour, 1st Minute**

Remy LeBeau had never met a fille as good as this one at killing sleep. He'd tossed and turned after midnight when Rogue called him, wishing there was something he could do for her. Well, without being her shoulder to cry on.

The clock mockingly blinked 1:00 AM at him, then 2:00 AM, and now 3:01 AM.

Life was simply cruel.

He groaned and launched out of bed to get dressed. He might as well give in and realize that _now_, he couldn't sleep.

"_Est-ce que je pourrais dormir?_" he grumbled to himself as he pulled on a t-shirt over his jeans.

And what did someone do to cheer up an untouchable romantic that preferred to pound all comforters into the dust rather than admit she might be feeling bad? Considering his recent rounds of sleepless hours due to the tasks she had set him and her rather uncanny knack for figuring out how to get under his skin, he figured it was entirely likely that if he tried to comfort her when she hadn't asked, she'd kill him. Or at least try.

Remy lit up and sat on the corner of his desk pondering his dilemma. The first thing he had done when receiving this room was disable his smoke detectors. Safety and liability and all that. So he aimed neatly toward it in an unconscious test of his handiwork as he smoked.

He was a thief. He could certainly use those skills to help him now.

Who could he frame?

**Day Two, 3rd Hour, 31st Minute**

Remy had always prided himself on his photographic and kinesthetic memory. Unfortunately, he discovered nearly 36 hours of not sleeping meant that didn't seem to apply to making sense out of his convoluted plan to cheer up Rogue. He was having difficulty concentrating. So he decided to write down notes. He could always charge them to destroy the evidence.

The Prince of Thieves wandered his fingers through a drawer, drew out a pad of paper, and started to scribble down his thoughts.

The words swam in front of his eyes, and finally, he gave up in disgust.

"Café!"

He slipped off of his perch on his desk, hid the pad in a location _nobody_ would ever think of, and left the room en route to the kitchen. Naturally, the halls were empty, and he made no sound in his passage.

Remy was almost to the kitchen when he heard it and froze. Somebody was _humming—_in the kitchen! He slid his body up against the corner and peered around.

Firecracker.

The little Asian mall rat was humming the theme to _Mission Impossible_, dancing around the kitchen in her new silky black nightwear (he was glad to note it _didn't_ advertise sex, seeing as Logan would kill him if it did), and waving around an ice-cream scooper while sipping on steaming hot coffee that smelled like...chocolate?

He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. The firecracker didn't vanish and he was forced to realize this was not an insomnia-induced nightmare. Well, no help for it.

Bracing himself, he entered the kitchen.

"Oh! Hi, Remy!"

He winced at the high-volume squeal and shushed her with his hands. "Keep it down, petite. It's 3:30 in the morning."

Jubilee furrowed her brows, then shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." She turned back to the other counter, opened up what was left of the gallon of rocky road ice cream he'd bought the girls last night, and counted out three scoops into her sickeningly chocolatey coffee. "How do you take it?" She gestured toward the nearly full pot.

"Noir." He sank gratefully into a seat at the counter. "Black."

She handed him a mug of black coffee. He downed it in a gulp. Then took to staring at her concoction.

"Jubilee."

The girl startled, turned, and stared at him. "Did you...did you like, really...Whoa, man! You called me by my name!"

"Keep it down!" Remy glanced both ways, but no one seemed to have heard. "It's 3:30 in the morning," he whispered fiercely.

"So what does _the master_ want, that he would actually call me by my actual name?" Jubilee grinned, still swinging her coffee.

Remy winced, at her choice of words, and at what he was about to say. He pointed at the atrocity in her right hand.

"One of those."

**Day Two, 4th Hour, 10th Minute**

After finally convincing the girl that he was neither crazy nor high, and then finally being forced to fill her in on his plan with the hopes that he could impress her with the urgent need for secrecy, and most of all enduring all the high-pitched squeaks and squeals that were necessary per dealing with Firecracker, Remy finally felt comfortably that he could leave it all in her capable hands.

So, weary with a job well done, he trudged up to bed and collapsed across the covers.

Maybe every girl liked chocolate, but he shuddered at the thought of what he'd had to go through because of it. But he smiled. It was worth it if it would cheer up the fille. He'd plotted on coffee, chocolate, ice cream, and a good Cajun breakfast to follow up for a start. There was more but those were secret things, and secrets were his treasure.

Finally, _finally_, he began to feel his eyelids grow heavy. His thoughts stilled. Sleep, so close.

The phone rang.

"Merde!"

He viciously yanked open the cell phone cover and held the thing to his ear. "Gambit!"

Rogue's sexy voice flitted breezily over the phone. "Got out with Emma early. Wake me up at 5:30 _sharp_."

Remy counted to a hundred in French in his head. She needed comfort? Cheering up? 5:30!

"Oui, chère," he said sarcastically. "A pleasure to serve."

A pause.

"Good. Bye." The call ended with a sharp click.

He grumbled to himself, set the alarm, and on a whim, got a piece of chocolate out the drawer of his nightstand and chewed on it before falling asleep.

* * *

A/N: Next chapter, his plan goes into effect with or without him and Rogue gets a few surprises.


	7. Job Security

Of course, the characters, universe, etc. aren't mine. But if everything we wished for were ours, these would've been mine ages ago.

I'm lousy at writing accents and am NOT going to misspell words to accomplish it. Imagine in the apostrophe's and other Cajun French variants, please.

**I LOVE AND FEED OFF OF REVIEWS. THEY BRING WARMTH TO MY HEART AND KEEP ME WRITING. WHERE THE REVIEWS GO, FOLLOWS THE WRITER.** Special thanks to ChamberlinofMusic, RogueNya, RogueonFire, laenamoradadeROGUE, Chica De Los Ojos Cafe, starlight2twilight, and AshmandaLC for ideas and stretchy reviews that dig in a little to what I'm doing right, wrong, or indifferent. _And thanks to all of you wonderful peoples!_ Just telling me your impressions helps me write better next chapters.

I don't speak French, so if I mess up, PLEASE shout me out. (Thank you for all those lovely souls that have helped in the past!)

I enjoy torturing Remy but also enjoy when he dishes comeuppance. So here goes.

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Seven: Job Security**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Two, 5th Hour, 30th Minute**

Rogue woke to a pair of glowing ruby eyes staring at her from the foot of her bed. She screamed and nearly fell off.

"Easy, chère." His rich voice, smooth as honey, reached out to envelop her, calming her.

She narrowed her eyes at Remy Lebeau perched like a cat on her footboard. "What are you doing here?" she snapped.

A slow, easy grin spread across his face beneath those devil eyes. "Ah, chère, I figured if I was going to get tortured for wondering, I really should get a peek at your night clothes."

Rogue stared at him. He had to be kidding, right? But no. His eyes devoured her, wandering down the light T-shirt and sweatpants she wore to bed.

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "I'm thinking you're too uptight."

"_I'm_ too uptight?" Rogue was beginning to feel dangerous.

Remy seemed to not notice. Kind of like Logan when he went off.

_"What am I supposed to do?" she had asked the gruff loner a lifetime ago._

_"Don't know."_

_"You don't know or you don't care?"_

_Logan hadn't even spared her a glance. "Pick one."_

She crossed her arms at the present-day menace. "Maybe I don't like changing to grab a midnight snack," she snapped.

Remy raised both eyebrows. "Or maybe you're scared and they're all fools." There was a tight edge to his tone that hadn't been there a second ago.

She tried hard not to notice, not to analyze. "Out of my room, Swamp Rat!" She glanced at the clock. "I've got training."

Remy merely grinned again and a coffee cup materialized in his hands from seeming nowhere. "Firecracker asked me to give you this. It smells awful."

It smelled heavenly and Rogue snatched the chocolate cream coffee concoction she had designed alongside the other girls and held it close to her hands, grinning. Chocolate was truly the way to a girl's heart. And chocolatey coffee with Rocky Road ice cream was the way to Rogue's.

"Thank you. Now"—she waved a royal hand—"you may go."

**Day Two, 5th Hour, 42nd Minute**

"You're late." Logan crossed his arms at Rogue's hurried entrance into the Danger Room.

"Sorry. Small rat infestation." She limbered up quickly, before Logan's less merciful colors decided to show. "Had to take care of it."

He merely looked at her in disgust. "In your room?"

"Hey!" Rogue straightened indignantly. "It's not like I invited him in!"

Apparently satisfied, Logan nodded then tossed her a wooden staff. "How's Emma doing?"

Rogue froze. "Well..." She tucked some errant white strands behind her ear and fiddled with the tip of her braid. "Not so well. The Professor was so sure it was psychological, but Emma's having a hard time finding it."

"Really." He looked thoughtful. "She find the psyches?"

"Alive and well," came the dry response.

"Good." Conversation over. Logan swung his staff into her without warning and the session was on.

**Day Two, 6th Hour, 45th Minute**

Friday morning had definitely been Rogue's morning to take on Logan. Saturday morning had lost its charm. Rogue groaned as she settled her already aching body into a seat at the counter.

"Did you have to go so hard?"

Logan snorted as he poured himself a cup of java. "Payback, girl. 'Sides. You can take it and we both know it."

And that was supposed to be reassuring. Rogue shook her head at him. Then stared at the stove. "Is that...?"

She slipped down off the stool—wincing—and sidled over, leaning an arm on Logan. A covered skillet bore her name in some fancy script that looked like calligraphy and removing the top revealed fried catfish and johnny cakes. She squealed with glee—even if catfish didn't seem like a breakfast item.

"What is _that_, kid?" Logan eyed the food like it was going to wake up and start attacking them.

"It's _real_ food," Rogue answered in bliss as she dished up onto a plate and poured the waiting berries over the corn pancakes.

Logan grunted, unconvinced.

She ignored him and savored her meal. She hadn't even asked Remy for breakfast, and she was fairly certain this was his handiwork.

"Of course, doll, you do know he left you the dishes." Logan smiled at her, thoroughly amused.

Rogue rolled her eyes. "Yeah. But he worked _hard_ yesterday. And I don't regret it, but I can still be nice and let him sleep today." Especially after his description of why he hadn't gotten to sleep until late last night. She might be cold when necessary, but she wasn't cruel.

"Come on, Logan." She changed the topic. "Try a bite of catfish."

He shuddered. "I'll pass."

Rogue giggled. "Your loss." And then she dug into breakfast and polished off every last bite.

More surprises came later. She was startled to find a soft, tiny kitten cuddled up on her pillow, sound asleep and purring, when she returned to her room. The kitten's fur was a soft grey and striped with a slightly darker color. Rogue cuddled the sleeping cat close.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

He sat up, opened his eyes, and let out a mewling yawn, showing tiny white teeth in a red mouth.

She nestled the soft fur against the skin of her cheek. Rogue had learned last year that fur seemed to protect animals and Hank from her powers. But who had thought to leave this cat here? Storm would probably have a fit.

She petted the kitten, then noticing a collar, read his name off the tag. "Scratch? Oh, boy. You're going to be a handful, little guy."

Scratch yawned again and started licking her gloves.

"You're kind of cute, you know that?" Rogue snuggled the kitten next to her chest and started in on homework.

**Day Two, 8th Hour, 1st Minute**

Rogue was just walking up to Remy's door when she heard loud shouting, small explosions, and something glass shattering. She paused startled. Emma was standing outside the door, arms crossed and grinning. Jubilee was also near (Rogue didn't stop to wonder why), aiming wide eyes in the direction of Remy's room.

Emma glanced at Rogue. "Logan wanted to stop and pick up Gambit for our Danger Room session."

The door suddenly burst open and Logan came stumbling out followed by a sizzling marble that exploded in a pink flash.

Rogue stared in amazement. Jubilee gaped. Emma giggled.

Logan's clothes had been damaged by more than a few explosions and his arm was just now finishing healing. His claws were out. His expression was murder.

He pointed at Rogue. "You tell that Cajun he's dead at 2:00. Meet me in the Danger Room."

Instantly indignant, Rogue drew herself up. "You can't kill him! He's my slave! For another thirty days! I've got owner's rights!"

"Storm's schedule first," Logan replied.

"This isn't X-Man," Rogue protested. "This is _your_ personal thing."

"C'mon, Logan," Emma insinuated with a small smile. "We _both_ helped her for twelve months for this. You can't hurt that now."

"Why were you _fighting_?" Jubilee asked, drawing everyone's attention.

Logan glared at the tiny, unfazed mall rat. "He was supposed to get up."

"Guess he didn't want to," Emma taunted.

"It's a Saturday." Rogue crossed her arms and glared back at Logan. "He's mine. You can't hurt him."

"Fine. Thirty days. Then he's dead."

Emma smirked. "He might survive. He's like a cockroach."

"He might _try_." Logan's look was dark.

Jubilee stared back and forth from Logan to Emma to Rogue, who was smugly content with Remy's current chances of life.

"I can't believe you're talking about this!" Jubilee began. "You're not seriously going to _kill_ him, are you?"

Logan growled and stormed off.

Emma laughed. "Like killing a cockroach."

Rogue just shook her head and knocked on Remy's door.

It flung open again and she drew back startled from the Cajun's somewhat disheveled half-asleep appearance. He wore jeans. Nothing else. Just jeans.

She blinked.

"Chère?"

She leaned forward, peeking into his room. Looked like half a deck of cards had gone off in there.

"Umm. I just wanted to thank you for breakfast, and..." Rogue glanced around the room.

Remy gave her an amused smile. "And discuss further details on convenient timing for my demise?"

"No! I..." She stared at him, then broke out laughing. "I was going to ask you to take me somewhere tomorrow, then give you the day off."

He glanced at Jubilee then gave a long look at Emma. "Sure thing, chère. Call me when you're ready. Now—" His gaze narrowed in focus to include just Rogue. "Good night."

He closed the door. The girls exchanged looks, then broke out into giggles. Jubilee sat on the floor and let the laughter overtake her, shaking her entire frame.

"Did you see the look on Logan's face!" And she collapsed into giggles again.

* * *

A/N: SEEKING FEEDBACK: What do you all think of making Emma and Logan a pair? It could be fun, but I'm not sure if I like the idea. I just like how they gang up on people. Thoughts?

NEW A/N: The pairing has been added in the version of this story, _In Love and War_.


	8. Des Supers Plans

Please refer to any of the previous chapters for the standard disclaimer.

**THANK YOU** all you lovely peoples for the lovely and many reviews and feedback. I've decided to spare the horrified among you of the idea of Emma and Logan, but will be trying out the idea (sort of) in a separate and concurrent fic, "Spectator Sport."

Thanks to CaptMacKenzie for the edit on the last scene of Chapter 7. Thank you for all those that have pitched in ideas and evaluated the ones implemented. Sorry for the long break. Had to attend a conference, which involved 3 days prior to that of working 12 hour shifts at work. No fun. Back to the land of the living...

On with the show!

* * *

French Translation(s):

_Des Supers Plans_ - The Well-Laid Plans

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Eight: Des Supers Plans**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Two, 17th Hour, 45th Minute**

Remy woke _well_ past noon. In fact, he slept most of the afternoon away too. It was the first time in ages that his body came alive due to his internal biological clock he'd set for himself in Guild training instead of due to an inhumanely set alarm clock he'd used to meet the team standards and schedule.

Did he mention they had a lousy schedule?

He was in a good mood as he leisurely pulled on a shirt over his jeans. He had to fish it out from some of the newly upended junk in his room, but a small price to pay to get rid of Logan killing any chance he had of catching up on his sleep.

Remy considered whether he should go to bed at a reasonable hour. Rogue's wake up call would probably become a regular gig, meaning he shouldn't stay up all night. He was still undecided when his stomach grumbled and he ambled over to his bedroom door, opened it, and nearly tripped over Jubilee.

The mall rat had settled in, stretching her legs across the doorway and looked up at him with a cheeky grin. "Hi!"

He cursed, grabbed her by the shirt sleeve, and yanked her into his room, then closed the door _quietly_ behind him.

"Firecracker, you want to keep this thing going a secret," he started in, "then you _can't_ show up outside my door like that! Anyone could've seen you! You call that secret?"

She popped her bubble gum and glanced around at the wreckage left over after his…disagreement with Logan earlier. "Nice room."

Remy narrowed his eyes at her. "Jubilee..."

"Chill, dude." Jubilee held out one hand. "Cough up the dough."

He stared at her. Unbelievable. She was positively unbelievable.

"C'mon," she said coaxingly. "Those shots and registration weren't cheap."

He growled in frustration and opened a drawer, digging through it for a moment. He withdrew a small amount of cash, counted the bills, and handed it over.

She took the money, held up a hand for silence, and solemnly counted the bills herself. Her eyes widened. "Geez, Remy! Is this your _petty_ cash drawer?"

"I have other jobs for you," he replied diplomatically.

She snorted inelegantly. "I bet you do! This is over a G." She raised her brows at him, as if he might not get it. "You know, a big one. A _thousand_ dollars."

"Oui," he answered calmly.

"And you keep this in a drawer?" _She_ was going to lecture _him_ on money etiquette?

Remy laughed. "Take the money, 'cracker. You'll need it." Then he handed her a list and pushed her out the door.

She squawked before he could close it. "Long stem? You've got to be kidding me!"

He slapped a hand over her mouth and chocolate colored eyes focused on him, still wide and disbelieving.

He narrowed his eyes and hissed out softly. "_Silence_."

Then he closed the door.

The kitchen wasn't a safe bet with her around, so he'd go ahead and start cleaning up his room. He picked up the King of Hearts and grinned. It _was_ fun.

**Day Two, 18th Hour, 2nd Minute**

About ten minutes later, Remy had his room into decent array and he ventured out into the land of the living, whistling a little when he came into the kitchen.

Bobby waved at him from the counter and received a scowl in return.

From the first time the two had met, they did _not_ get along. That had only intensified when Remy found out that he'd dumped Rogue because he couldn't touch her. It didn't help that she'd turned down the Cure and any chance to be normal along with it. And Remy pretty much held this boy accountable for the Friday night call with its attendant tears. Rogue was so strong naturally, it must have taken an incredible jerk to bring her to that state.

Remy drew himself up short. He went back over his thoughts.

He was starting to get protective.

Non_._ That couldn't be right.

He went back over the previous paragraph again. He was starting to get _protective_.

Non. He was simply noticing what any decent male would, that Rogue was desirable and beautiful in spite of and partly because of her mutation. It was just a lovely quirk of what was her.

And he had all sorts of ideas on how to get around it.

"Going to get food this century, Gumbo?"

Remy sent up an injured prayer to whatever god might be listening. Really. Did Logan have to turn up _everywhere_ that Remy did?

"Sure, mon ami," he replied easily.

He slipped in past the Canadian and swiped some milk from the fridge, cereal from the pantry, and opening a lower cupboard...

"What do you think you're doing, bub?" Logan's claws magically appeared at the back of Remy's neck.

With a long-suffering sigh, the Cajun withdrew from the Wolverine's stash, hands in the air. "I didn't get any."

"Only 'cause I caught you."

Remy conceded with a shrug. "What can I say, homme? You have the best taste in beer."

Bobby nearly spit out his cereal. "You can't drink in here!"

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Non_?_"

It was a dangerous statement around either Logan or Remy. Good thing that Logan stopped the popsicle from putting his foot further into it by "helping" him so he wouldn't choke. Good thing for the popsicle that is.

Logan grinned as he stopped lambasting Bobby on the back. "Shouldn't talk while you eat."

Remy chuckled.

Bobby aimed a glare in Remy's direction.

He grinned back like a Cheshire cat and winked. "Wouldn't want you to choke, now would we, garçon de glace?"

Bobby frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Ice boy." Remy dug into his cereal.

"Hey!"

Remy paused for only a moment. "Shouldn't talk while I'm eating." He even pulled off the angelic innocent expression usually reserved for his Tante Mattie.

Things were definitely looking up.


	9. A Polite Disaster

You can all blame **coup fatal** (my lovely reviewer) for this next chapter going up instead of waiting its turn like a good little fic should.

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Nine: A Polite Disaster**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Two, 19th Hour, 21st Minute**

Rogue glanced at the clock on her way in after dinner, noticing it was after seven. She sighed and flopped out across her bed. She wanted to scream. The image had played over and over in her mind like an annoying song from the radio.

The image of Remy in only jeans.

She groaned. She was _not_ interested in the Cajun. He was arrogant, self-centered, chauvinistic, entirely too irresponsible...

The image played before her mind again.

And entirely too hot.

Rogue sat up suddenly. "Scratch? Where are you, sugar?" She leaned over the edge of her bed and peeked beneath it. The kitten had curled up in one of her shoes and fallen sound asleep.

She scooped him up with one hand. Her gaze landed on the leg of Kitty's chair.

"Oh no," she groaned. "Scratch, you little rascal."

A nice set of kitten scratches marred the wood. She'd have to sneak in some of the wood putty before anyone noticed. Except Kitty that is. Kitty was in on the whole somebody-got-me-this-sweet-kitten-that-I'm-not-giving-up-just-because-pets-are-against-the-rules.

Rogue took to stroking the tiny purring ball of fluff. She was glad he seemed to sleep so much. But she had to make sure she brought up food and beverage for the guy on time. Earlier that day, he had twice opened his mouth to let out some sort of screechy cat yowl of injured hunger. She had been required to clamp down with her gloves over the mouth and set him in sight of his meal, then been further obliged to make sure no one that mattered had heard. So far, she'd lucked out.

Kitty phased into the room, singing at the top of her lungs with a chipper smile filling half her face and an armload of papers to grade.

Rogue stared at her roommate.

Kitty was singing the theme from the Aristocats.

Rogue lunged for Kitty.

"Whoa!"

Kitty didn't phase in time, and she let out an indignant squeak as Rogue's nonkitteny hand made contact with Kitty's mouth, and the papers erupted in a cloud of floating white and redness.

"You've already graded them?" Rogue asked, scrunching up her nose, from her perch on Kitty's stomach.

Kitty glared at her, shoved her hand down, and spat out some cat hairs. "Scratch had _better_ be clean," she warned.

Rogue kept staring at the papers falling to the ground like so much snow. "What teacher brings _graded_ papers home to work on?"

"The kind who...Oh!" Kitty must have decided Rogue was a lost cause and stood up _through_ her, brushing herself off. "Why did you do that, Rogue? I was just hitting the break!"

Rogue narrowed her eyes. "We've got enough on our hands keeping this secret without you singing _that._ Besides, no one else will wonder why I shut you up. They might wonder why I didn't."

"Really..." Kitty narrowed her eyes in return. "Hmph." She gathered the papers. "Actually these are reports, and they still need comments."

"Oh." Rogue grinned wickedly. "Actually I hadn't washed Scratch yet."

"Ew!" Kitty dropped her papers in another snowstorm, to Rogue's giggling amusement, and vanished through the wall in the direction of the bathroom.

Scratch woke up and started his cry for milk.

She clapped a glove over his mouth and cursed.

Just then someone knocked on the door.

Kitty suddenly appeared from the closet, head first, and tumbled into the room.

Rogue gave a startled squeak.

"Hide him!" Kitty whispered. "It's a flowers guy and Logan's coming up the stairs!"

"Oh..." Rogue cursed again and looked around for something to tie his mouth. Getting a better idea, she grabbed Kitty, yanked her over, shoved Scratch into her hands, making sure his mouth didn't come uncovered, despite his scratching protests, and ordered the girl to phase him. "Take him anywhere. I don't care."

She dumped some clothes in front of Kitty's chair legs and a small bit of wall that had apparently served well and the foot of her own bed.

Kitty narrowed her eyes at her chair.

"Go, for Pete's sake!" Rogue shoved Kitty back into the closet.

Thankfully, she phased in time.

The 'someone' knocked again, and she smoothed her hair before walking over and opening the door. "Hello?"

Logan was indeed coming up behind the innocent stranger handing her a vase of a dozen long-stemmed red roses. Rogue gaped.

"For me? But who...?" She didn't continue, just grabbed the roses before Logan did. "Thank you."

"No problem." The delivery guy grinned. "Someone thinks you're real special."

She hoped whoever thought the delivery guy was real special wouldn't notice the red marks later where Logan had shoved him away with a tiny bit of claw unsheathed.

"You've delivered your package, bub. Now out!"

Thankfully for her, Logan decided to escort him out personally. She watched as they rounded the last bend.

Rogue whirled into her room, setting the roses down carefully, and hurried out, locking the door. She had to get deodorizer, cleaner, and the vacuum cleaner before Logan got back up. And she had to shower.

She knew without a doubt that roses would bring him in to her room. And she also knew he'd smell the cat.

**Day Two, 19th Hour, 33rd Minute**

Rogue turned off the vacuum cleaner and leaned it against the wall, then finished dressing in her new clothes. Logan had been waiting outside for a few minutes now, because she had the brilliant idea of being "not decent" when he demanded entrance. And then kept right on cleaning.

She heard him muttering under his breath when she let him in. "What?" Rogue asked innocently.

He gave her a look. He wasn't buying it.

She grinned and gestured at the roses. "Aren't they beautiful?"

Logan grunted. "All right. Who are they from?"

"I don't know." She picked up the card again. "It says, 'To a beautiful girl, the light of my life.' I don't think I'm the light of anyone's life." Except for maybe Scratch.

Logan eyed the flowers distrustfully. "Poetic."

She grinned wickedly. "Isn't it? I thought so."

He glanced at Rogue. "Don't go falling for some secret admirer, kid. Not until you know who he is. Even John could wax poetic."

"Pyro's gone," she replied flatly. "And I'll go _falling _for whoever I want to."

"I'm just saying..."

"What happened to the whole I'm-not-your-father speech? Hmm?" Rogue demanded, bracing her hands on her hips.

He sighed. "I'm just saying."

"Well, I like them. And the card. And what it says."

He stood up, hands raised. "Fine. I'll see you in the Danger Room tomorrow morning."

She blinked at that. "Umm, Logan..."

"What?"

"I was wondering if I could maybe skip that? I've got somewhere to be."

He repeated her words incredulously. "You're not skipping out on Emma are you?"

Rogue shot him a look. "There _is_ no where to be at 4:30 in the morning."

Siryn suddenly poked her head through the door. "Guys, come quick! The flower guy got stuck in the security system on the lawn!"

Rogue narrowed her eyes at Logan.

"What?" Logan threw up his hands and stomped out. "Girls!"

_Men!_


	10. Le Voyage de la Miséricorde

A/N: This chapter has a little less humor and far more plot, but hopefully, you'll all forgive me since it also has more Romy. Sorry it took me ages to update this baby. I've been catching up _Spectator Sport_, and then switching from that to a combined version of _All's Fair_ and the Emma/Logan storyline in _In Love and War_. Hope you like. And the French may be awful, but I'm going to post, then send this off for translations. ---Thanks, **Disdainfully Arrogant **and **HeavenMetal**!

* * *

**DarkAngel2011** (Rogue cleaned up very well, and Logan had a lot on his mind, so he didn't notice Scratch—this chapter. :smirks:), **Sirius-Black-is-not-dead** (I love Logan! And glad you liked the card game. Hope you enjoy the ride.), **Girl In Tragic Pink** (More banter per your request.), **PhoenixCrystal** (Thanks for reviewing and for reading even when you don't. I'll try to keep Remy entertaining enough for you. :shakes head at him: He tends to be whether I want him to be or not!), **amyln** (You're fantastic for reviewing. More's a'coming!), **Ladykind2008** (Thanks for hanging in there with me, and my long absences.),

**RogueNya** (Minifridge good. Will find one and get those girls what they need. I have fun with Logan, but if you want to read what's beating him up, go check out _Spectator Sport_ or _In Love and War_. No serious Logan/Emma yet, so you can just feel his pain. LOL Also contains explanation of why Jubilee.), **ChamberlinofMusic** (Wonder no more! Jubilee sent them for Remy under the guise of someone else. Now, who the else is...I'll leave you wondering. :rubs hands together gleefully: Logan is my favorite, no matter how I write him. Well, of the "spectators" that is. And he seriously shouldn't have said he wasn't her father. :sighs: Men are so often clueless. As for the delivery guy...I take the fifth. :grins:),

**laenamoradadeROGUE** (More Remy. I had to give him his day off, so of course, other relationships came to the fore, but I think you'll like what comes next. :snickers:), mylove24 (I'm having a ball with the cat. And you're right on the flowers. Sort of.), **Chica De Los Ojos Cafe** (Thanks for reviewing! I love your take on Logan. LOL), **HeavenlyKitten** (Logan is so...Logan. :rolls eyes at him: But I love him.),

**coup fatal** (Sorry this took so long, coup. But thank you for being so understanding of my ridiculous amount of junk going on and for ordering me to catch up the other before continuing this one. I won't let it get so far behind again. :looks prayerfully upward and crosses fingers: I hope.), **RogueOnFire** (Logan refuses to comment. I have my own suspicions. LOL But as for why Rogue is hiding Scratch, I went back and made that clear. Pets aren't allowed. The training, however, is necessary. If you need more on that, please refer to _In Love and War_.), **starlight2twilight** (The flower guy solemnly informs me that he will not be coming back. :grins:)

Thanks to all! Please enjoy this next installment.

* * *

French Translation(s):

_Le Voyage de la Miséricorde -_ traveling mercies

_un moment_ - a second

_votre famille_ - your family

_ma chèrie_ - my darling

_ma belle fille_ - my beautiful girl

_mon amour_ - my love

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Ten: Le Voyage de la Miséricorde**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Three, 3rd Hour, 59th Minute**

Remy stirred groggily from his sleep, wondering what had awakened him. Then he stiffened. There it was again. A tapping on his door.

He rolled over and stared at the clock. _Somebody_ had to be kidding him.

He swore profusely in French as he clambered out of the twisted covers and yanked open the door. He stared, stunned.

Rogue stood, fiddling nervously with the pale green shawl that wrapped around her bare arms. A hunter green sheath dress hugged her curves with spaghetti straps doing little to hide her sleek, smooth shoulders—or anything else. Her hair had been done up in a chignon with the white strands out and curling around her face.

"Hey," she said, offering a tiny, nervous smile, her gaze focused intently on his face.

He could just catch the whiff of _Erotica_, the perfume _he_ had chosen for her. He opened the door a little wider.

"And how may I help you, ma chèrie?" His eyes drank her in from head to toe, ignoring every bit of discomfort the look elicited.

"That ride?" She breathed out a sigh. "We need to leave around 4:30. I forgot to tell you that last night."

4:30? As in, the morning? He stared at her, the expression significantly changed.

"Out of sheer curiosity," Remy finally managed to bring out, "when do you _sleep_?"

Rogue glanced down his bare chest quickly, drawing a wicked grin and another devouring gaze, before turning away and fiddling with the edge of her shawl again. "Dress _nice_, Cajun. We're going to church."

"Wait _un moment_, chère." Once again, he was forced to backtrack and get his mind off of her clothes—and all that tantalizing skin beneath. He released the door and gestured as he spoke. "_You_ want _moi_ to go into a _Protestant_ church?"

She rolled her eyes. "Catholic, huh?" She managed to look at him highly amused.

He growled. "Oui."

"Imagine that," she drawled. "Shave." With that, she whirled around in the heeled strappy sandals he just now noticed and left with a royal progress.

Church!

What _would_ she think of next?

**Day Three, 4th Hour, 33rd Minute**

"You're insane," Remy informed Rogue bluntly as she slipped into the passenger seat of his car.

"Well, thanks," she replied sarcastically. "Always one for compliments."

He sighed. "Some reason we're leaving this early for church?"

Rogue paused and looked him over, apparently unable to suppress the expression of interest that blossomed over her face. He wore a dark blue dress shirt and slacks, but had skipped the tie and slicked back hair. He raised one eyebrow at her and she blushed.

"Seem to like what you see this morning." He leaned toward her.

She looked out the window. "Just drive." She passed him a slip of paper.

He read off the directions. "This isn't in Westchester."

"You noticed."

"This is almost twelve hours away!" Remy sent her an incredulous look.

"I believe so." A tiny smile quirked at her lips. She still didn't look at him.

"What are we doing, chère?" he demanded. "It's a little late for _church_."

She fastened laughing green eyes on him. "There's an evening service. And I _said_, 'Just drive.'"

He muttered under his breath, fastened his seat belt, and started the car. Drive. He had experienced a lot of obligations in his life, but this slavery thing was perhaps the most demeaning. He had never been entirely under the command of another _female_ before in his life. And he was beginning to discover just how aggravating it could be if that female was as coy as Rogue.

He just drove.

The road flew by in a neutral silence that held neither comfort nor discomfort. He flicked on the radio. His favorite sounds blared out and Rogue cringed. He couldn't help the chuckle that followed.

"You seem to like your music..." He searched for the right word. "More controlled." He let it roll off his tongue as the guitar and drums beat into his blood. He tapped the wheel with one hand and stole a glance at Rogue.

She glared at him. "More enjoyable."

He laughed openly at that.

Rogue reached over and viciously spun the dial to the same pop music channel as before.

"No need for that, chèrie," he said smoothly. "You're number 7 on the buttons."

She frowned and looked at the panel. "You programmed my station in?"

"Oui."

"Why?"

"Why are we going to church?" he lobbed back.

She sighed in disgust, crossing her arms. He really couldn't help but sneak a peek at _that_. He almost lost her next words.

"To meet my family."

The car slowed slightly and he gripped the wheel tighter. "Votre famille."

"Is that a question or a statement, Swamp Rat?" she drawled out lazily, then shrugged. "We're meeting in the middle. It's another eight hours or so to home, so this way we can both get home at night."

"So why do you need me?"

She caught her breath and looked away. "They think I'm Cured."

His knuckles began to turn white. Remy forced himself to loosen his grip.

He just drove.

The road flew by in uncomfortable silence. Finally, he broke it.

"So."

Rogue twisted in her seat. "So? That's all you're going to say?"

Remy shook his head forcefully. "So what am I supposed to do?" He didn't look at her, not sure he really wanted to know what was running through her head.

She didn't answer right away. She took a deep breath.

"Rogue..." It was a warning, a questioning, a demand.

"I'm no good at lying," she said abruptly.

He wanted to laugh. She had just made the understatement of the century.

"Least not to them." He caught a movement at the corner of his eyes, like a shrug he guessed. "And you are."

"And I am? That's it?" He glanced toward her.

She bit her lip and stared straight ahead. "I didn't really want to do this alone."

Remy gave up trying to multitask in this strange conversation with a girl who never had been easy to understand. He pulled over onto the side of the road, despite her instant protests. He pulled the key out of the ignition and turned to her.

She crossed her arms again and glared at him.

"Start from the top," he commanded.

"No." The response was blunt. And defensive.

He reached out and ran his fingers along one white lovelock. She dropped her mouth open slightly. Her anger intensified. He turned the charm full on and she leaned back, slapping at his hand.

"Don't touch me!"

He laughed shortly. "You do know the usual reason a girl brings a guy along?" He let his eyes dance as she slowly absorbed what he was saying.

He wouldn't allow her to react fully, but kept the charm going. Kept her calm. Kept her interested.

"Remy. Stop that." She didn't manage the full emerald death glare of the Rogue, but she was certainly holding out better than most young women of his acquaintance.

He leaned forward, mere inches from her face, and let the scent of her perfume wash over him. "No." The response was blunt. Eye for eye.

She put up both hands and shoved him back by the shoulders. He leaned over on the door and laughed again.

"Roguey, you're no good at lying 'cause you're no good at _planning_." He tilted his head and smirked at her, waiting for her reaction.

This time he got the full emerald death glare of the Rogue. "Do _not_ call me that," she commanded imperiously.

Remy's smirk widened. "Roguey? Ma chérie. Ma belle fille." He leaned closer again. "Mon amour. Which would you prefer?"

"_None_ of them," she replied helplessly, clearly this close to throwing up her hands at him. "I'm not _your_ anything."

He laughed then, a real laugh, and she kept glaring at him while he kept laughing.

He finally gave her a sideways look. "I'm thinking you're too uptight, chère. Gotta _relax_. One more reason you're no good at lying." He slipped one arm possessively around her shoulders.

She immediately stiffened and tried to shove him away, this time in vain.

"We'll be the perfect couple," he said, smirking at her wide-eyed expression. "Unless you had some other plan." He managed to pack the last line with insinuation.

She finally managed to shove him off. "Shut up, you swamp rat! And keep your hands off of me."

"Just saying." Remy shrugged and restarted the car. "You want me to be of assistance, chère,"—he sent a calculating glance her way—"then you might want to come up with a real plan. And tell me what it is."

Rogue crossed her arms and pouted as he pulled out onto the road.

"I hate you," she said.

He shrugged. "You won't."

She didn't respond.

* * *

A/N: Please go read and review coup fatal's wonderful fic _I Volunteered. _A multi-POV story that reveals the truth behind Gambit's actions as a Horseman of Death. She was sweet enough to finish up the tale with less than a million reviews (as demanded), and it's a fabulous read. You'll run the gamut of emotional rollercoaster. -- thanks for the edit!


	11. Dalliance of War

Thank you to my muse for the chapter, **Green Peridot**. Could _not_ have done it without you!

* * *

**ILoveAnime89** (Define soon...), **Irual** (Rogue actually requires Emma's help. She's training in her powers. More on that later. I'm glad you like Scratch and the characterization and Remy's careful bad behavior. I have so much fun writing this when it's flowing. And thanks for the good thoughts towards my muse! It runs away from humor regularly.), **cara410** (Thank you!), **killer joke** (I'm so glad. And just think, Remy's the one I've never experienced. Who'd have thunk? I hope Rogue stays all right. I've seen X1, a handful of Evo, and plenty of Anna Paquin's other work and sort of extrapolated from there.), **PhoenixCrystal** (Rogue will be planning more, but not telling everyone just what as yet.),

**v son sayian** (Glad it's funny. Not my strong suit, but I try.), **Tearlit** (I'm glad it's working and they're staying in character. I try. Thank you for giving it a shot.), **Green Peridot** (He tries to get revenge here, but it's going to backfire quite nicely. But I think he's nice enough not to _try_ to ruin her family meeting. Um..._try_.), **icklebrina** (Not discontinuing any fic. The only one still goes on, just in another form. Never worry about that. I'm going to finish this baby on day 31. And thanks so much for the lovely review. Hope you like the new chapter.), **Reya Wild** (This really ought to be interesting.), **HeavenlyKitten** (Whew! :sighs of relief: Thanks for the reassurance.),

**RogueOnFire **(Well, she gave him some warning, right before letting him sleep as long as he wanted yesterday. She just forget to tell him when. And how long. And I think she's a nervous wreck, myself. Thanks for the sweetbread!), **Moosk** (Wish I'd had something for your birthday, but it just didn't work out. Désolé. But I'm glad you're enjoying it.), **ShannaK** (I'm curious too. As for Rogue opening up...I wish. :shakes head at her: She won't even open up to me! But Remy'll stick with her. I'm sure he'll fare better than myself. :grins:), **Kerrilea** (You read my mind on the lunch. But at church...well, that does come first. :grins dangerously and cackles:), **ChamberlinofMusic** (Favorite? Wow, what an honor! Let's see if I can keep it up... I have a feeling Remy's going to try very hard to help her with her family and manage to make everything a whole lot worse. LOL At least, from where I'm sitting now, that's the plan.),

**RogueNya** (Working on it. Doing my best. Thanks.), **coup fatal** (Not in Mississippi. That would be a twelve to fifteen hour trip. Pennsylvania probably, but I'll leave it at they're meeting in the middle, so both parties can go back home. And we don't get to church this chapter, but next, I promise! :looks sheepish: As for the mutation thing...uh...good point. Hope to have successfully addressed Rogue's feelings on the matter below. As for hugging, I give hugs all the time, and if you dress modestly, you don't touch skin on skin. And this is provided they hug her. We'll see!...I know you're going to get on my case for the length of the chapter as it's shorter than in my other fics, but please just remember that it's about on par with half the chapters in this story.), **Bologna121 **(Meeting the parents next chapter...I think. I know we go into the church.),

**Laceylou76** (My very first bit of research into Rogue/Remy was an article quoting from the Bizarre Love Triangle tale where Emma's helping them meet mentally and they do the whole Protestant/Catholic thing. I really could not resist. And where _else_ would they reasonably go on a Sunday? I just knew it had to be church. :rubs hands together in anticipation: I'm also glad the charm thing is working. Not being a charming individual myself, writing Remy runs me through the wringer to get it right. But I seriously enjoy writing him.), **alexmonalisa** (As long as every so many chapters you remind me that you're here and reading, I'm a radiantly glowing happy camper. I sometimes skip reviews on middle chapters if I'm short on time, so no fear. And as for Rogue, she'll be nicer and meaner, just as Remy will. Ups and downs 'cause they provoke each other really. :shakes head at both of them:)

Thanks to all!

* * *

French Translation(s):

_tu sais_ - you know

_ma maîtresse_ - my mistress

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Eleven: Dalliance of War**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Three, 8th Hour, 26th Minute**

Rogue was fuming. She stared out over her car door, nails tapping evenly on the top. She could practically _feel_ the smirk aimed at her back.

"Something the matter, chère?"

She whirled on him. "Oh, don't you give me that!" Rogue narrowed her eyes dangerously.

Remy merely returned a smug smile, one hand lazily guiding the wheel. He reached out with one finger and flicked the radio back on.

She cringed at the blare of rock music blasting out from the speakers. "You're a jerk. You know that?" She hit the button for Program 7 and lowered the volume.

"Backstreet Boys?" He glanced at her pityingly. "Tu sais, you have no taste in music, chèrie."

"You're the one that's tone deaf." Rogue slouched down in the seat, crossing her arms. She noticed him stealing a look. "Eyes on the road, swamp rat!"

He reached out and changed the station back to his but left the volume low. "Got a plan?" he asked. The fingers of his left hand flexed, and she figured he was craving a cigarette. "'Cause there's at least one thing they're bound to notice."

She looked at him warily. "Oh?"

His red eyes burned brighter for a moment as he shot her a pointed look. "My _eyes_, chère. I ain't wearing shades in the church."

Rogue leaned over, changed the station back to hers, and cranked the volume, watching as he winced. "Don't then."

His jaw suddenly tightened and set. He kept his gaze steady on the road ahead.

Something twinged inside her as she studied him and she found she couldn't look away, instead wandering her gaze over the hard planes of his face, the fixed intentness with which he drove, the gleaming, ember-like quality of the liquid red glow of his irises. They were sharp and burning against the black. She looked lower at the tenseness in his broad shoulders, the way his shirt fell against his muscled chest, the alertness, the guardedness.

Her eyes flicked upward again. "You got a problem with that?" She felt pleased at how strong her voice sounded. She thought for a moment it would fail her.

He jerked one shoulder in a shrug. She had the distinct feeling he was angry at something.

"I don't care what they think," she said.

Remy laughed. It was a short, sharp sound, but his cocky smirk was back as he glanced over at her. "If you didn't care, you wouldn't be bringing me along."

"Oh?" She raised a brow.

"Oui." He switched the station.

Rogue cringed beneath the onslaught of a heavy bass drum. "Remy!" She lowered the volume and switched it back to hers.

"Plan," he repeated patiently.

She huffed at him and crossed her arms again. "I _do_ have a plan," she stated icily.

He hummed appreciatively and moved one hand in a "go on" gesture.

Rogue said nothing.

Remy glanced at her, then gave her a wolfish grin, eyes brightening. "Do tell, _ma maîtresse_." It was a challenge, a dare, a gauntlet thrown in the most seductive, flirtatious voice he had used with her to date. He winked at her and a slight flush burned her cheeks.

If he didn't have such a good point, she wouldn't, just for spite. But he did. If she didn't convince him to play nice, then the whole thing would go down the drain. She sighed heavily.

He changed the station.

"You blasted swamp rat!"

She reached for the radio, but he was in her way, holding one hand over the controls while driving with the other and looking straight ahead. She batted at his hand, but it remained. She growled. He chuckled.

"Glad you find this so amusing," she bit out sarcastically.

His hand moved quickly, winding around hers in an unexpected gesture and holding it between them.

Rogue stared at him, speechless. Finally, she pulled together a shred of composure. "What are you doing?"

"Calming you down," he said. "You're always so tense. Just _relax_."

She regained her head and squirmed her fingers in his. His thumb traced a soothing circle on the back of her hand, but his grip was firm and did not let her go.

"Let go of me, Remy."

"Non."

She sighed in exasperation. "You're impossible." With her free hand, she reached out and hit the button for her station.

His chuckle rumbled out again, and she despairingly realized she actually enjoyed the sound.

"Remy..." She tugged on her captured hand again.

"Plan," he tossed back. "I need to know, chèrie."

She subsided, gradually giving in to the realization that he wasn't going to let go and this warm feeling and every spike of discomfort his rubbing her hand incited wasn't going to go away.

He killed the radio. "Well?"

Rogue huffed and outlined the basic details of her campaign, not the least of which involved careful avoidance of skin on skin contact and conversation safe from unpleasant topics. She was about to tell him what she wanted him to do when he suddenly released her hand in surprise.

"_That's_ a plan?" Remy gave her a horrified look, which promptly settled into stubborn disapproval. "Mine was better."

"It's a good plan!" she protested and crossed her arms again, now that she could.

He snorted disbelief.

"You know, swamp rat, you're not the only one that can come up with a plan." Rogue fixed him with an unhappy, narrow-eyed gaze.

He shook his head, undrawn. Then a gleam came into his eye. "How about this?"

She listened, horrified at the colorful description of his imagined visit with _her_ family.

She sputtered. "Absolutely not! They'd think... I can't _believe_ you!"

"Ah, chère." He was grinning like a little kid at Christmas. "_That's_ a plan. They wouldn't even be concerned about your mutation."

"No! They'd be too worried about my innocence, you idiot!" Her usually extensive collection of disparaging names for him had dried up and given way to less ambiguous standbys. Her volume went up as she got more and more upset. "I will never let you put your hands anywhere _near_ there, you good-for-nothing, skirt-chasing—"

Remy slid one finger across her lips and winked at her. "We all know how you really feel."

Her eyes narrowed at him and her mouth tightened into a frown. "Remind me to kill you sometime," she said.

"Désolé, chèrie. I'm all booked." His appreciative grin said otherwise.

She turned the radio back on but conceded to lowering the volume—slightly. Keeping her eyes averted made it easier to drop her next line. "And if I said to remind me to sleep with you sometime?"

"I'm sure I could reschedule a few things." Remy gave her a once-over that put a light burn in her cheeks.

Was she really flirting with the most infamous player in the mansion?

No. She wasn't. She was still angry at him, she decided, and lifted her chin. She delivered her words with haughty condenscension. "I'm sure."

But she was smiling as she turned away.

So was he.

* * *

A/N: If you have not already, please be so very sweet and vote in the poll at the top of my profile page on what fics you want me to focus on writing. Poll closes August 1 and whatever the top three are, I will go with that.


	12. Prêcher un Converti

A/N: I borrowed a couple of lines (paraphrased) from _While You Were Sleeping_. Really, how could I resist?

Thanks to **abthetis** for the title!

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**HeavenlyAngel** (You warm the fuzzies in my heart. I'm having a ball with this one!), **ChamberlinofMusic **(Well, maybe the poll will let you vote again. You see, I got this tie... LOL But really, I _have_ to break the tie. And sorry _Fight and Shadow _has been gone so long. It's giving a hard chase to me and my finicky little muse. But the banter is one of the most fun things about this fic. I get to go crazy 'cause he's completely at her mercy. Did I say completely?...LOL Keep reading. I don't really think he is!), **starlight2twilight** (flirty is fun. and as said to another, the plan is about to go out the window. :big grin: :gleefully anticipating making everything go crazier and crazier and crazier:), **CurrentlyIncognito** (Um...I don't know how to _not_. Sounds strange, but it's the only way to force myself not to go absolutely crazy on one and to not get bored or too complex or...well, you get the idea. I have to write a bunch of storylines. It works for me.),

**AshmandaLC **(Incredibly lovely review! And oh, yes. He enjoys getting under her skin. LOL And hers really was plain jane. I didn't even have to write it out to get through almost all of it. But he didn't ever get to hear the part about what he was supposed to do, since he cut her off. And thus, he'll do whatever he feels like. Poor Rogue. :snickers: I'm going to _enjoy_ this. Do you mind, btw, if I use that little snippet for a one-shot idea? I'd love to imagine out what would have happened if he stole from Mattie instead of Jean-Luc to get adopted!), **Irual** (Thanks for liking and glad the pm helped with questions. And it's kind of funny the differing feelings re: boy bands. I just try to stay well out of the debate. LOL Love the brownie, 'cause fighting with the radio was my favorite part.), **Tearlit** (Thank you! Humor is hard for me, but it's so, so, _so_ fun. :grins broadly:), **Chellerbelle** (The plan is about to be blown to smithereens. To quote: Bwahahahahaha.), **coup fatal** (I know...short chapters. But look on the bright side! There's more of them. And if they weren't relatively short, In Love and War would be unbearably long.), **RogueOnFire** (oooh! I like. And I'm rather fond of cheesecake, so thanks!), **Laceylou76** (Hopefully, you'll find the church scenes funny too. I certainly enjoyed writing them! That being said, I got them to church, but um...the real family meeting is not yet complete. Désolé.)

* * *

French Translation(s):

_Prêcher un converti_ - Preaching to the Choir

_de rien _- it's nothing

_D'accord_ - okay

_mon amour_ - my love

_mais_ - but

_tu sais_ - you know

_mon frère_ - my brother

_trois_- three

* * *

**All's Fair **

**Chapter Twelve: Prêcher un Converti**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Three, 16th Hour, 18th Minute**

Rogue and Remy arrived in a small, unassuming town in South Carolina by about 4:15 in the afternoon. Remy parked the car where Rogue directed outside of a moderate-sized church, pulled the key out of the ignition, then studied Rogue. She was fidgeting with the fringe of her shawl and chewing on her lower lip, ruining the light lipstick she had worn.

He shook his head and sighed. "Chère," he said with mock despair. "You'd make a terrible poker player if you wore that face to the game."

"Excuse me?" Rogue rounded on him, green eyes flashing anger. "I beat _you_ out, swamp rat."

He grinned at her.

She narrowed her eyes.

Remy leaned in close, still grinning. "My point precisely."

That took a moment to sink in, then she glared at him before yanking open the car door and stepping outside.

He laughed at her.

"Oh get out," Rogue huffed. "We'll be late for the service."

"I thought we were meeting them here, not worshipping." He cast her a sideways glance as he got out and fixed his shades.

Rogue shrugged. "Family's Southern Baptist. Missing the service ain't much of an option."

Southern Baptist. Go figure. He never seemed to catch a break with this femme. "_De rien_," he said dismissively and slipped into step beside her, wrapping one arm around her waist.

**Day Three, 17th Hour, 7th Minute**

Remy was bored long before the end of the sermon. The pastor went on and on...and on. He had already looked around three times for Rogue's family, but he had yet to see anyone fitting her description.

He leaned over and whispered to Rogue, "I like service better in Latin."

Her elbow met his ribs. Hard.

"I'd rather not know what they're saying," he protested, rubbing his ribs and earning a glare. He gave her a pleading look. "Since we _do_ know what the guy is saying, and I'm not that interested in sitting through another hour or two of him waxing eloquent against my chosen profession, can't we split already?"

"We're here to meet my family," Rogue retorted in a sharp whisper. "Not satisfy your ego!"

"I haven't seen them yet," Remy protested and looked around yet again. But when he looked back at Rogue, she seemed a little bit uncomfortable. "Rogue?"

"They'll be here," she said. He wasn't sure which one she was reassuring. "They asked to meet me," she continued. "Not the other way around."

He sighed and turned back to watching the parishioners. "Oui."

He tried shifting to a more comfortable position on the hard pew, but Rogue's hand shot out and held him still.

"You're acting like a child," she said reproachfully.

Remy crossed his arms and stayed still. "No child." He grimaced. "Mais, a hard pew for sure."

He glanced over at Rogue. She was trying very hard to keep a straight face.

"Don't laugh," he said, lowering his voice directly by her ear and grinning at her.

She gave him the emerald death glare. "Shut up," she whispered fiercely.

"Non," he whispered back.

She shook her head and stared straight ahead at the pastor, whose finger was pointing repeatedly to some passage in the Bible. "This is juvenile," she muttered.

"You seem drawn to that argument," Remy noted. "Perhaps someone should show you what juvenile actually is." He made his offer with a serious look and an innocent tone.

She turned to him in horror. "I _don't_ want to know what _you_ consider juvenile."

He barely kept from a real laugh, the kind that would get them both in trouble.

"You're supposed to be listening to the sermon," she protested weakly.

He suddenly sobered, drawing on all his Thief skills to keep from laughing out loud. "Tu sais, when we were little, my cousins and moi, we would get bored in the Mass pretty quick. But we always sat behind this nice family, three or four children—"

Rogue dug her fingers into his arm, and he winced. "Not in the church!" she whispered. "If you make me laugh, I swear to—"

He cut her off with one gloved finger gently laid on her mouth. He smirked. "Not in the church, chèrie."

If looks could kill, he was certain he'd be dead.

She reached up and plucked his hand away from her face. "If you tell me anything that you or your cousins did in the church, I will kill you."

"Oh?" Remy clucked disapprovingly in her ear. "That's one of the Ten Commandments you'd be breaking."

"Really?" She coolly lifted a brow.

He grinned broadly at her. "Mon frère used to let a mouse loose in the soprano choir," he said quickly, before she could stop him. "He'd wait until the most boring part, then skip out to the men's room and _make_ the fat lady sing."

"Remy Etienne LeBeau." Her voice held barely restrained fury and laughter.

He grinned wider. "Well, chèrie, you didn't say anything about my brother."

She made a small, strangled sound in the back of her throat while still looking forward.

"And my church never did preach against thieving," he added for good measure.

Rogue's hand came up to cover her mouth and a red flush burned her cheeks. "Remy..." she whispered. The threat was still there, but well buried under the laughter.

He glanced back toward the back of the church yet again. Something had changed. He glanced over the ranks. "They're here."

Rogue sobered instantly, a shudder running through her body. "How many?"

"Trois."

"Three," she muttered to herself. Her grip on her shawl tightened, and the knuckles were starting to turn white.

"Men's room," he whispered and stood to go out.

"Remy," she protested, but she was too late to stop him.

He kept his eyes well away from her family's direction and tried to determine the best way to circle back around. He shook his head. She really needed to pay him better!

**Day Three, 17th Hour, 22nd Minute**

By the time, Remy walked up to the foyer from down the outer hall, Rogue was just approaching her family. He slipped up beside her and settled an arm around her waist. She looked up sharply, a hint of a blush under her pale skin.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Had to fix my shades."

Understanding flickered in her eyes, but by then, they had reached the people she had once called family. Rogue pasted on a smile and greeted them politely.

"Y'all, this is Remy," she introduced neatly. "He agreed to drive me down here today." He was pretty sure she deliberately omitted any reason for his very comfortable arm around her. "Remy, this is my papa, Owen, and mama, Priscilla. And this is Aunt Carrie." He caught the slight heightening of tension on the last.

He shook hands with Owen and kissed the ladies'. "Pleasure's all mine," he said with his most winning smile. He tightened his grip around Rogue's hips, much to her discomfort and stroked small circles with his thumb. "Your daughter is enchanting."

Rogue's smile became that much more strained.

"Well, I've never heard her talk about you," Owen said, narrowing his eyes.

Priscilla elbowed him inconspicuously, and Remy figured out where Rogue had gotten the tendency. "Owen, she's a girl. She only writes about girl things to girls," she said with a small huff. Then she smiled at Remy. "Charmed, I'm sure."

Remy gave Rogue a sidelong glance. Her cheeks were flaming. Gotcha.

She had written home about him. Very, _very_ interesting.

Her aunt was saying something. "We could stop by that little place we saw on the way in. Nice restaurant." Didn't sound like a request.

"Sounds like an excellent idea," Priscilla seconded.

It seemed to be the women driving this meeting. Owen kept frowning at him, but put up no protest to Carrie's no-nonsense manner or his wife's submissive agreement. Remy reflexively pulled Rogue a little closer.

"Sure," Rogue said, her strained smile just about to give out.


	13. Battle Lines

A/N: Here's to **starlight2twilight** who requested me to write in this story next. Review replies will be coming separately, I'm afraid.

* * *

French Translation(s):

_ma chérie _- my darling

* * *

**All's Fair**

**Chapter Thirteen: Battle Lines**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Three, 17th Hour, 42nd Minute**

"Someone just dig a hole and bury me now," Rogue muttered beneath her breath.

Going to a restaurant after church _sounded_ like a good idea, but at the rate her day was going, Rogue felt she'd be glad to make it out alive. Stopping to eat was just inviting trouble.

Remy leaned in closer and whispered against her ear, "Non, ma chérie. I like you better up here with me."

He smirked at her and she smiled sweetly up at him for her parents' benefit. But when he offered his arm, she gripped it tight enough to hurt.

They went in separate cars and parked next to each other. Rogue spent the short trip over telling Remy all the things he was absolutely _not_ to do while he smirked at her silently. She eyed him warily, fairly certain he'd do whatever he pleased.

"You're supposed to be helping me," she reminded him.

"Oui, ma chère." The smirk in his voice assured her that his definition of helping her would not be at all similar to hers. He pulled the key from the ignition. "Shall we?"

She let him open the door for her, help her out of the car under her mother's watchful gaze, and managed to give him another jab with her elbow while she was at. "Behave yourself!" she hissed under her breath.

He was too close, too touchy feely. He'd managed to wrap his arm around her again as he walked her in.

"_Relax_, chère. I got this."

Her father frowned at her when they got in the door. "Haven't seen you in ages and I haven't even got a hug."

Rogue stiffened slightly, but she tugged at Remy's arms to do so. Remy seemed reluctant to let her go. She gave him an annoyed glance, but Remy had his gaze fixed on Owen, and even through the shades, she could see he didn't like her father's request.

Priscilla shooed them forward to settle in at a table, temporarily avoiding the topic.

"Now, let's see!" she said cheerily. "Carrie, what looks good on the menu?"

Aunt Carrie obligingly looked.

Rogue gave Remy a puzzled look as he snugged her in between him and the window opposite her parents. He picked up a menu and flipped it open.

"So you two are friends?" her father demanded in his booming voice.

Rogue nodded. She could feel herself blushing though as Remy looked toward her with a slight frown. She cursed mentally. How did he manage to make everything seem as if they were more? They weren't. Not even close. As far as that went, they weren't even friends!

Her mother fixed her with a knowing look, but mercifully changed the subject. "Let's get ourselves some roasted vegetables and have a chat, shall we?"

Owen grudgingly left off his staring contest with Remy and engaged on getting himself a more manly dinner—like steak and potatoes. It had been a constant when she lived with her parents before a rocky time in their relationship—ostensibly not related to Rogue, but she knew better—when Aunt Carrie came to live with them. Aunt Carrie frowned deeply at her father's order.

"You shouldn't travel across the country with only a man," her father continued, ignoring his wife's sister and using his reasonable tone of voice. He gave Rogue a disapproving look. "It doesn't give a good impression. People might think things."

Remy draped his arm easily across Rogue's shoulders before she had a chance to respond. "Oh? What kinds of things?" he asked with a wicked grin.

"Remy!" Rogue whispered fiercely.

But Owen and Aunt Carrie were already scowling, but Priscilla was laughing and it brought a tentative smile to Rogue's face.

"She's a grown girl," Priscilla said. "She can take care of herself. Besides..." She winked at Rogue and the smile puttered out. "It must be nice to have a boyfriend again."

Rogue's cheeks must have been flaming scarlet. She felt like she was on fire and Remy's smug smirk did nothing to help.

"He's not my boyfriend," she protested weakly.

She went unheard. Her family were already arguing back and forth about the issue.

"I'm just glad you came to your senses and got the Cure," Aunt Carrie said, changing the subject with finality. She took a bite of pancake.

Remy's grip on Rogue's shoulder tightened noticeably. She tried not to wince—at either of them.

"If they'd had it sooner—" Rogue started.

"I'm sure you would've taken it," her mother interjected, always the peacemaker. "It just takes medicine so long to fix anything nowadays. They're _still_ working on cancer."

Owen nodded grudgingly but still casting a wary eye on Remy's encircling arm.

Rogue looked back and forth at the people around her, people that should've supported her when she found out just how terrible her mutation was and hadn't, people that—. She stopped that train of thought and glanced at Remy instead. He was unreadable and silent behind his shades. She didn't know whether to be angry or relieved.

She took a sip of her iced tea. "Yeah."

**Day Three, 18th Hour, 18th Minute**

Rogue dismissed herself from the table a little bit later and went into the ladies room, ostensibly to clean up, always a safe excuse. She leaned her back against a stall door and covered her face with her hands.

Even Remy couldn't seem to keep them off that topic. All her life, she'd grown up in a bit of a minefield between her parents and her aunt, but after she'd gotten her mutation, everything just went on a greased slide towards impossible. So she ran away. Her mother seemed to be all right getting letters, seemed to think this was some sort of disease that Rogue would hunt the whole wide world for a cure for before coming home the same way she was before.

And she nearly had. She nearly _had_.

Rogue brushed the tears off her cheeks and hurried out to the sink to wash her face. She could do this. She was Rogue. She could make it through this visit.

She looked up into the mirror and nearly screamed.

She whirled around and slammed Remy in the chest with her fist. "This is a girl's bathroom, you swamp rat! What do you think you're doing in here?" She would have yelled at him, but she _definitely_ didn't want her family knowing he was in here—or anybody else for that matter.

Remy just chuckled at her, smirking, red eyes glowing. He'd pulled off his shades. "Ain't the first time I've been in one of these," he said. "'Course, I'm usually doing something much more...interesting." His eyes ran indecently over her figure.

She reached up to slap him hard, but he caught her wrist in one hand. He looked down at her, suddenly serious.

"You okay, Rogue?"

Rogue stared at him. "You came in here to ask if I'm okay? I can't _believe_ you!" she raged.

He sighed. "Come on."

She struggled to free her arm, but he held her fast as he headed toward the door.

"We're going to talk about school, only school. You got that?" He glanced at her sharply. "They want you to go back to Mississippi with them."

She stopped cold in her tracks. "What?"

Remy shrugged and fingered his sunglasses out of a pocket and slipped them on. "Unless you want to tell them you're still a mutant, I suggest you follow my lead." He led her back toward the table.

Rogue glared at his back. Like he knew her family better than she did!

He waited for her to slide in before him.

She'd follow his lead, all right. She smiled up at him sweetly, and for the first time since they'd met up with her family, he hesitated before smiling back.


	14. Les Règles des Fiançailles

A/N: Hope you don't mind all the edits (last three chapters) and fix-ups and posting _In Love and War _first, thus spoiling this chapter, but here it finally is!

**Lucida Lownes** (Thanks for all the constructive criticism. I was pushing these out last time I wrote on this and wasn't entirely happy myself. Better?), **AngelwithDirtyThoughts** (Thanks! Love the penname. :giggles: ), **GrearBeloved** (Well, I hope this wraps up the family in a way that works for you. :blushes: You give me warm fuzzies with the compliments.), **ChamberlinofMusic** (Poor Rogue indeed! She tries to do her best and everything gets way out of hand, way too fast. I can't admit to not enjoying the torment though. :snickers: And it gets worse.), **RENZE127** (Thank you much, much! I'll be updating more frequently, but still got a lot of fires, so not as frequently as I'm sure everyone wants.), **Le26199, little miss michelle, angelwingz21** (More is here!), **weebird** (I'm glad you liked it! I've missed seeing you here and I always like to know how it's working for you. More is good!), **hawaiichick** (Remy is the only guy I write that I could so see not caring about showing up in the ladies room. He'd say it's because he's secure in his own manhood, but I think he's just funny. Though it's Rogue that gets cheeky in this chapter. Poor Remy's about to be flabbergasted!),

**Kerrilea** (Sorry I made you wait. Remy's fun when he's suave, but I'm having too much fun knocking him off his game _this_ chapter. LOL), **Laceylou76** (You're so empathetic. I'm just running them through the wringer. Hopefully, this works well for you. They _can_ keep a secret, as it turns out. But as for family support...um...yeah.), **A Rose in the Night** (You'll recognize most of this from _In Love and War_, but it goes over slightly to the next day so some new info.), **drumgirl1923** (Remy is sooooooooo fun!), **ColorCoated** (Rogue's family is quite interesting. :shudders: It gets worse. But then the brilliant muse's idea that I had to hunt hours to make work and go back and tweak everything takes over and it all looks up considerably. For us readers that is.), **coup fatal** (Thanks for all the encouragement girl. _This_ chapter is quite worth the wait, if I say so myself.), **PhoenixCrystal** (It's what Rogue is planning that we should be worried about... :cackles: ), **Chellerbelle** (Sorry I made you wait. But wasn't it worth it? :grins: ), **starlight2twilight** (I've been such a good girl, haven't I? I've updated your stories, started new ones, and _Without a Trace _goes up as soon as I get the second beta back. :happy dance: ), **Ray** (Thanks! I'm not too fond of the parents either. :glares at them: ), **bologna121** (And from here on out, the plot bunnies are just one after another after another. :grins: ), **RogueOnFire** (I liked including that Priscilla felt real and lovable to me. When I studied comic canon, it just fit that her mother was the one she could relate to and try to depend on. But Aunt Carrie... :frowns: Well, anyway... Thanks for the lovely review!)

Thanks everyone, and please enjoy!

* * *

French Translation(s):

_Les Règles des Fiançailles - _The Rules of Engagement

_Quoi?_ - What? [I went and verified. Quoi or Que is correct. Porquoi is why.]

_n'est ce pas? _- isn't that right?

_sil vous plait_ - please

_ma maitresse_ - my mistress

* * *

**All's Fair**

**Chapter Fourteen: Les Règles des Fiançailles**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Three, 18th Hour, 23rd Minute**

Remy was justifiably suspicious of Rogue's angelic agreement with him. Unfortunately, so was Owen.

"So how did she meet you anyway?" Owen asked, eyes narrowed at him like he was some offensive insect that had dared to get too close to his daughter.

"Poker game," Remy replied smoothly.

Rogue gasped.

She lied badly but truth was, that was the reason he couldn't lie about anything they'd cross-examine her on. And judging from the looks coming from both women, they would cross-examine her.

"Dear," Priscilla began sweetly—she was the sweetest of the bunch, "however did you get talked into that?" She furrowed her brow as if it was an innocent question.

Remy had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Not that they would see it with his sunglasses on.

Rogue glared at Remy. "Girlfriends talked me into it." Her voice hitched only slightly.

He was both grateful she'd taken his advice about remembering she had a poker face and intrigued at the realization that playing poker with him the first time had been her own idea. Especially since at the time, she was a lousy player.

He shrugged. "She's a upstanding citizen, just a little dare, n'est ce pas?" And that was where his ability to bluff coolly came in so handy. Stretching the facts as he knew them without pushing them beyond her bounds to play along.

Rogue just nodded, an embarrassed flush to her cheeks.

"I'm not sure I would approve of these friends," Carrie said, frowning.

Owen frowned with her.

Rogue shrugged. "They're good students. We just wanted to blow off some steam, harmless. We were at home."

Not too bad herself at the stretching.

"Never turn down a pretty fille." Remy grinned at her, earning another glare from both Rogue and Owen.

Carrie finished up her last bite of food and set down her napkin on her plate. Everything about the gesture just breathed trouble, and Remy racked his brains for a quick distraction.

"One of the upsides about living at a school is there's always someone around to keep us in line," he said easily.

Priscilla nodded in seeming agreement, and Rogue's shoulders relaxed slightly under his grip.

Carrie managed to bomb them anyway. "As well as that may be, I think it's time you came home, sugar," she said in anything but a sweet tone, directing her words solely at Rogue and ignoring him completely. "We are your family and now that things have been taken care of"—he wanted so badly to respond to _that_—"you should return."

Rogue took in a deep breath that seemed to take more out of her than it brought in, then said slowly, firmly, "No."

Silence dropped like lead. Remy tightened his arm around her, ready to whisk her away at the first sign of trouble.

Finally, Owen leaned forward. "Don't you think this has gone on long enough, Marie? We want you home."

"Very much, darling," Priscilla put in with pleading eyes.

But Rogue repeated firmly, "No. I'm happy where I am and I'm still finishing up my schooling."

"Which we _have_ been paying for," Carrie said matter-of-factly.

Remy looked up sharply at that.

"You sent us that first letter and we have taken care of our responsibilities since then," she went on. "As such, you are still legally a student and our dependent."

"Carrie—" Priscilla began, but her husband cut her off.

"She's right and no denying it. And we want you home." He aimed this last with crossed arms at his recalcitrant daughter.

Rogue's eyes were flashing fire and her sharp nails digging into his arm were the only thing keeping Remy from putting them in their place. But he had a feeling this little wildcat beside him would much rather handle it herself. He just hadn't expected what she did next.

"Your dependent?" she demanded, tone livid. "Well, as of right this moment I don't need your money. I don't need you." She turned to Remy. "I think I'm going to just elope and make sure you can't come back and bite me on it either."

"_Quoi_?" Remy stared at her in dumbfounded shock, but her eyes said, don't even think about refusing. He shut his mouth. "Oui." She was nuts. Utterly nuts. This was _not_ what he meant by play along.

"You can't do that!" Owen sputtered.

"I can too." Rogue stood up on her chair and announced to the entire restauraunt. "I hereby declare myself married to this young man next to me under the common laws of South Carolina. Remy?"

When had this situation gotten so out of control? He said something that might have been an affirmative—must have been because everybody started clapping and drowned out any protests he may have voiced and all the caterwauling her own family was putting up.

Then she got back off the chair, smoothing her dress, and dragged him out to the car. "Get in. Fast. Before they follow."

He slid into the drivers seat and tore out of the parking lot as Rogue promptly put her face in her lap.

"Rogue?"

"I cannot believe I just did that," she said once they had gotten out of the state and probably halfway through the next.

"Neither can I! Dieu, what will you think of next, fille?" He alternated between staring at her and staring at the road. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

Then he stopped in real horror. "Are we _married_?"

Rogue pulled her face out of her lap and gave him a miserable look. "Not exactly." She hesitated. "We have to 'assume the relationship' afterward and...um...get a place in South Carolina for it to hold up in court." She turned away, cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "But if we did all that, then yeah, we would be."

Remy took a deep breath.

They would be actually, legitimately married.

"How in the world did you know about that?"

"School report. Last year." She wasn't looking at him, looking anywhere but him. Then suddenly she did. The glimmerings of a smile appeared about her mouth. "It worked."

"It worked?" He cast a glance at her. "That's all you have to say for yourself and that huge scene in there. It _worked_?"

"Well, it did!" she protested.

He leaned over and kissed her soundly on the lips. It was only an instant and she practically punched him getting him off, but it was _so_ worth it.

"I think I just fell in love with you, chère."

"You're crazy, you swamp rat!" she shrieked at him. "You want to get us both killed? You're driving, for crying out loud!"

And he felt more exhausted than he'd ever felt in his life, but he could drive on it.

Remy gave her a smug grin. "It was worth it."

"Pull over!" Rogue demanded.

"Why?" He cast her a puzzled glance.

"You're _not_ going to drive under the influence. Pull the car over." She glared at him. "I'm driving."

"Oh, non, chérie." He tightened his grip on the wheel. "I may be yours but the car is not and no one drives her but me."

"You're half out of it!"

The dashboard lit up with a magenta glow.

"And you oughta know, hein?" He grinned and reabsorbed the charge. "You driving with my power and no control is definitely a recipe for disaster."

"Remy!"

"Wouldn't want to get us killed, _n'est ce pas_?"

"Oh, I'm going to get you killed, all right," she muttered darkly.

He laughed. "Just ride, chère. I got this."

She fell into a sullen silence as he multi-tasked between driving and decharging all the things she was lighting up. He clucked disapprovingly.

"Shut up."

He did.

**Day Four, 11th Hour, 5th Minute**

Remy woke up with a pounding headache. Hangover. Had to be a hangover. The light was too bright. Had he gotten drunk? He couldn't remember. He couldn't think. "Dieu!" he muttered to himself.

"Delayed reaction?" an angelic voice asked.

"Quoi?" It wasn't smooth like he would have wanted but at least it was words coming out of his mouth.

The angel giggled.

He squinted in her direction, but too bright! "Close the window, sil vous plait." He waved in the direction of the offensively open blinds.

"You'd think you'd been in a car accident, not stolen yourself a little kiss." But the blinds were shut and he sighed blissfully.

Remy opened his eyes and looked over to see Rogue leaning onto his bed. Concern flitted across her face and she reached out one gloved hand to brush the hair back from his eyes. It shocked him to silence.

"Did I hurt you that bad?"

That was his cue. He pasted on an easy grin. "Ain't nothing I can't handle, chérie."

She whopped his shoulder. "That's for making me worry." Then she glared at him.

He rubbed at the injured appendage. "Beginning to think you aren't the angel I thought you were."

"You're just _now_ figuring that out?" Rogue sighed in exasperation. "Up. Up. Emma wants to borrow you for the rest of the day."

"It's a holiday!" he protested.

"You _said_ you only need four hours of sleep and I gave you four and a half." She grinned at him before plunking her elbows down on his chest. "Look on the bright side. Logan wanted to borrow you and I said no."

Remy grumbled as he clambered up out of the bed. "You're a cruel, cruel woman."

She just laughed angelically and glided toward the door. "Nonsense. I saved you, didn't I?"

"Says the married woman," he muttered darkly, reaching for a shirt.

Rogue jerked her head toward him, clearly startled. "Don't you _dare_ mention that to anyone."

"But we're supposed to 'assume' the relationship, isn't that what you said?" He shucked the shirt from yesterday.

Rogue sputtered. "I wasn't being _serious_. I was making a getaway. Just keep your trap shut." She glared at him. "That's an order."

"Oui, ma maitresse," he replied with a wicked grin. He reached for a pair of pants.

Rogue blanched and squeaked.

He raised an eyebrow, but she was already rushing past him toward the door.

"Shave," she called over her shoulder and slammed it shut behind her.

"What's with this shaving fetish?" he muttered, exasperated. But then he thought of her face and chuckled. He could use _that_ ammunition for a very long time.


	15. Feminine Secrets

A/N: That's it!! I declare review reply bankruptcy. Too many. Too very many to reply too and no time to devote to such a catch-up exercise. I'm just going to have to stay more on top of them in the future instead of allowing about **200** to pile up in my inbox. :groans:

I'm going to just focus on writing for a while, 'kay?

**Follow-up Note:** This is the last chapter that's _supposed _to contain review replies that won't. I was just too tired to do them. Sorry. I will be a good girl and stay on top of the new stuff.

Also, poll on profile. New story on website that will ONLY be posted there.

**Follow-up to the Follow-up Note: **I do still hunger after and thrive on reviews. If you can tolerate a longer wait time on replies (and occasional skips), PLEASE continue to review.

* * *

**All's Fair**

**Chapter Fifteen: Feminine Secrets**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Four, 11th Hour, 13th Minute**

Rogue slammed her back into her bedroom door, breathing hard after her mad dash from Remy's room. He had just pulled off his shirt in front of her without so much as batting an eye, revealing way too appealing lean, hard muscles and...

_Stop thinking about it,_ she told herself firmly and then blushed again. He had gone for his pants—his _pants!_—while she was in the room.

She did not like Remy. Not at all. Not even a little bit. No, she most certainly did not.

Someone tingled through her and Rogue shrieked as she scrambled away from the door.

Kitty looked at her oddly. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Rogue replied. Too quickly. She plopped down onto her bed. "I'm fine." Her breath was normalizing. She was definitely not thinking about any hot guys that she had almost _married_. A hot flush worked its way up her cheeks. Then, she frowned. Her hand felt the pillow carefully.

"Sure." Kitty looked thoroughly amused. Then she thrust a squirming cloth bag with several holes in it into Rogue's hands, catching her entire attention again. "Take the cat, please."

"Scratch!" Rogue glared at Kitty and let the grey kitten roll out onto her bedspread to sprawl with all four paws up in the air, mewing helplessly. "It's all right. I'm here." She cuddled her pet with gloved hands.

Kitty cast an irritated glance in their direction. "If you knew the things I went through for that cat," she muttered darkly. "Well, anyway. On a brighter note, Scratch is potty-trained."

Rogue's head popped up from the kitten. "Excuse me?" She did continue tickling Scratch's tummy while he batted at her fingers.

Kitty grinned with positive triumph. "I trained him to use the toilet."

Rogue blinked. She sat up. Scratch meowed plaintively at the abandonment, but she ignored him. "You _what_?"

"I trained him to use the toilet so he'd be less conspicuous," Kitty said as she gathered up some things from the closet. Gloves. Broom. Bucket.

"What are you doing?"

Kitty glared at Scratch again. "I'm going to clean up the boathouse." She sniffed disdainfully. "That _cat_ is a threat to decent society."

"He's mine." Rogue reached for him defiantly.

"I know, I know." Kitty waved her off absently, then vanished through the floor with her supplies.

"You're mine," Rogue whispered to the purring kitten in her hand. Curiously, her gaze fell to her pillow. With her free hand, she lifted it cautiously and set it aside, then stared at the heart-shaped box of chocolate caramels.

Her brain refused to compute.

Chocolate.

Caramel.

Her favorite indulgence.

She stared at Scratch. "Well, would you look at that?"

Scratch meowed plaintively, unimpressed. That is, until he was dumped unceremoniously back on the spread, paws flailing, while his mistress opened the box of treats, searching furiously for any sign of who the gift was from. After a few minutes, Rogue gave up. There was no tag or label, just twenty-four luxurious sweets.

Her gaze wandered over to the long-stemmed, red roses blushing on her dresser, then back to Scratch, who was grooming himself with an injured expression, then back to the chocolate caramels again. If she didn't know any better...

No. It couldn't be.

**Day Four, 11th Hour, 33rd Minute**

Rogue forgot what a nightmare preparing for Kitty's birthday party was going to be. She was the designated party room decorator, and Storm, Emma, and Jubilee had all locked themselves in an out of the way conference room to transform it into the perfect concoction for Wednesday night's celebration.

"I think pink is the perfect color," Emma said, laying out roll after roll of disgustingly pink streamers.

Rogue poked doubtfully at the decorations as Emma started on laying out balloons. "I think we need a little variety."

"Pish posh. This is _Kitty_'s party," Emma said.

Storm interjected, "But we put Rogue in charge as best friend and roommate."

"Variety is the spice of life!" Jubilee grinned in perfect agreement as she dumped bag after bag of blindingly bright balloons in a zillion colors on top of the pink streamers and reached into yet another shopping bag for ribbon and streamers of her own.

"What are those?" Rogue demanded.

"I think we'll be permanently blinded," Emma remarked dryly.

Storm shot her a quick glare, then said gently to Jubilee, "Those are just a little...bright."

"Disgusting!" Rogue corrected her. "No. None of this will do," she continued emphatically and started toward the door. "I'll just be a minute."

_Don't you dare go get Remy to run any errands for you,_ Emma's mental voice sounded off in Rogue's head, stopping her cold. _You lent him to me, remember?_

Rogue crossed her arms and glared. _This is an atrocity! I need more materials._

"I think I might have some things in storage," Storm said doubtfully. "If you want them, that is." An aplogetic smile at Rogue.

Jubilee muttered something about taste and no one appreciating her sense of style.

Rogue sighed. "Lead on."

**Day Four, 12th Hour, 47th Minute**

It took over an hour for Storm and Rogue to go through the heaps and piles of decorative materials the school kept on hand for various celebrations. Rogue snorted in some surprise at the retro colors that Storm blushingly admitted were from her own school days.

"Didn't even know these were still down here." The weather goddess shook her head at the mess and stuffed crepe paper back into boxes. She pulled forward another and opened the top. "Ah. Here's something."

Rogue peered between the flaps. "Now, _that_ just might work."

The women shared a grin.

They carried their prize between them through the kitchen, only to run smack dab into a highly irritated Cajun wearing little more than jeans and an apron.

"You mind, chère?" he demanded harshly, carrying a pot that looked _very_ heavy.

"Uh, no." Rogue scooted backward a step, flustered.

Storm gave her a funny look.

Remy merely poured off the excess water from his noodles into the colander in the sink.

Storm glanced appreciatively over Remy's impeccable upper body. Rogue tried desperately to ignore it.

"Let's get these back to the conference room."

"Certainly," Storm agreed.


	16. Raz de Marée au thé Dans la Cuisine

A/N: I'm going slow, but that's mostly because I'm working on a very special one-shot that has me tearing my hair out (birthday present, :sigh:). So slow. Sorry.

Please review, by the way. It's _reviews_ that inspire me to keep writing and it's hard to stay inspired when only one or fewer people chimes in. Thank you to all the wonderful people who reviewed last chapter.

**ChamberlinofMusic** (Boy, does she. :cackles with glee: She has no idea what's getting ready to hit her. Of course, she's also going to have plenty opportunity to antagonize him, but she really hasn't done that much. Yet. :giggles in anticipation: Kitty's party overall is going to be fun, because it's planning is a disaster! But the girl deserves a nice party in the end, so we're working on that.), **V Rogue** (Thanks, sweetie. And I agree: Remy shirtless is waaay nice.), **SparklesInTheSun** (You're the sweetest. I'm glad you're enjoying the plot. Sometimes, this one gives me a time knowing how to take it where I want, but I think I'll make it okay. I'll try to include more Emma/Logan soon, but that's really on the other side of the story, _In Love and War_. As for updating system, right now it's nada. Whatever I can force the muse to cough up. It's like that poem: "There was a little girl with a curl in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very, very good, and when she was bad, she was horrid." The muse has been, in a word, horrid. :sighs: I hope you like the website. I've made a few messes trying to get everything up, but I like how it's turning out.),

**Laceylou76** (Yeah, they didn't take him on the road, but he plays a big spot in the extended fic for that chapter that's only hinted at in _All's Fair_. And that is a funny word play. But Kitty and the kitty's adventures are in _In Love and War_, the currently last chapter posted. As for why Remy's moody? Read on. And yeah, I like that visual too. :grins: ), **ruroca57** (Very, very bright. :nods in regards to party: And I particularly liked Remy's outfit.), **Chellerbelle** (I can understand your husband's position. I was inspired by a book where the gal potty-trained her cat and thought what a brilliant idea in this situation.), **PhoenixCrystal** (Would you? I mean, we all admit it, but in her position, it's a recipe for disaster. Especially seeing she was deadset against the potential sexual aspects of having a slave.), **PyrusAngel** (I'm glad you're enjoying it! Actually, Kitty's party is a bit away, but hopefully you won't mind the trip to getting there. And I'm actually going to leave Kitty out of the matchmaking. I've got enough plot threads in the air without adding that, but it is a funny thought. Stuffed bear. I like.), **AngelwithDirtyThoughts** (Sorry I kept you waiting. Hope you enjoy the chapter!)

Thank you, everyone. You keep me writing.

* * *

French translations:

Title: A Tempest in the Kitchen Teapot (lit. Tea Tidal Wave in the Kitchen).

_pour le Christ _- for Christ's sake (Babelfish, anyone want to offer a correction, go right on ahead)

* * *

**All's Fair**

**Chapter Sixteen: Raz de Marée au thé Dans la Cuisine**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Four, 13th Hour, 1st Minute**

There were five reasons that the entire day reeked with awfulness in Remy's mind.

**Item One: **He felt as hung over as if he'd gone out last night on a drinking binge/competition with Logan where neither hauled their sorry carcasses out of the bar until the bartender kicked them out personally. The light hurt his eyes. His head pounded. He'd only recently stopped seeing double.

**Item Two:** Trying to catch Jubilee at any point when the little firecracker was wired for sound, squealing (making him wince—oh, the pain!), and plotting gifts he was pretty sure Kitty wouldn't even want was a nightmare. Project: Secret Admirer was still in effect and all he wanted to do was get a hold of the framed admirers and let them know once and for all that Rogue was now effectively taken.

No man in his right mind would let a girl like Rogue get away from him after she'd _proposed_ and been accepted.

**Item Three: **Emma was playing taskmaster.

**Item Four:** Kitty was playing taskmaster.

**Item Five:** Laura I-can-kill-you-with-a-look _X-23_ was playing taskmaster!

And not a single one of those three (sometimes) estimable females knew _anything_ about cooking.

"Non!" Remy rushed to wave Kitty away from the pots on the stove. "What are you trying to do?" he demanded.

Kitty crossed both arms and glared at him. "I thought I smelled meat."

"There is no meat in this pot. Now, shoo." He stood in between her and the stove while she merely rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

_I think a nice light salad should go well with our menu as well,_ Emma interjected mentally, as usual, oblivious to the fact that he was otherwise occupied _rescuing_ said menu.

_This ain't the meal for a 'light' salad, chère,_ Remy retorted mentally while tossing out verbally, "Back away from the cooking, Chaton."

She sniffed disdainfully, then suddenly popped both eyes opened wide and fled _through_ the wall.

Remy turned and groaned at the sight of Laura entering the kitchen with two more grocery bags.

"We need more protein," she stated and began pulling out some definitely _non_vegetarian items.

"Dieu, grant me patience." He rolled his eyes upward. "This is Kitty's birthday party, X,"—a dangerously raised eyebrow from Laura—"and _she's_ vegetarian."

Laura sniffed disdainfully.

_Were you proposing a heavy salad?_ Emma thought disdainfully. _Because— What in the world is _that_? _Her mental voice suddenly went dead and he figured she was dealing with an in-person catastrophe.

Remy counted to three.

One.

Two.

Thr—

Laura opened his pot lid.

Remy exploded. "Are you crazy?"

_Remy. What's going on down there?_ Emma's voice came in sharply.

He was too busy to listen.

_Remy?_

**Day Four, 13th Hour, 28th Minute**

It wasn't supposed to get violent. It wasn't. All he had to do was keep Laura out of the pots of jambalaya and gumbo and away from the cutting board full of vegetables and out of the kitchen, but no. The former military experiment had other ideas and implemented them with full military assault.

Lucky for Remy, he knew how to deal with military assault.

When Laura employed claws to get him out of the way, he charged those claws and sent her flying. She didn't even bat an eye, but went hard for the pot. Needless to say, it went _way_ downhill from there.

Naturally with the crashes and the thuds and the sound of at least one cabinet door being sliced clean off its hinges, it was only a matter of time before people were pouring into the area in a jumble of noise and motion. Remy registered it as he did all moving targets, but his focus remained on staying alive as Laura took another swipe with her claw.

He shoved his gumbo out of her line of fire—noting quickly that the lid was still on it and nothing could've "fallen" in—then promptly found himself suspended by the front of his shirt against a higher cupboard.

He blinked. "Logan?"

Logan grunted in acknowledgement. Remy realized suddenly that Laura was growling furiously from behind Logan's other fist.

"Now, you two want to explain what you're doing?" Logan asked, barely restrained impatience in his voice.

"She started it!"

"He cannot cook!" she retorted heatedly. "The nutrient content is insufficient!"

"It's a _birthday_ dinner, _pour le Christ_!"

"Stop! Both of you!" Ororo's forceful, authoritative tones silenced them.

Remy managed to look slightly sheepish, but Laura simply glared back at Logan.

Remy glanced around. The kitchen was trashed. If it wasn't food, it wasn't spared. And right now, Kitty, the guest of honor herself and supposedly unaware that all this food was for her, was staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.

Logan set them both down. "Gumbo, how about you clean this up?"

He stared at Logan. "Me? It was her fault!"

"But you could have stopped it." Logan pointed at Laura. "You, come with me. Now."

He stalked away toward the elevator and Laura muttered and growled after him. None of the students had any doubt whether the Danger Room would be well occupied for the next so long.

Remy muttered in the middle of his kitchen.

Rogue wrinkled her nose. "Is something burning?"

**Day Four, 14th Hour, 5th Minute**

He cursed and muttered, but really there was one definite reason his day was now looking up. Remy might have been stuck cleaning up a kitchen and repairing a cabinet door that _Laura_ had trashed while his ruined jambalaya smoked from the sink, but he was doing so in the shy, friendly company of Rogue—who was never shy and friendly.

Today, she stared mostly at the plate of veggies he had set in front of her and offered sympathies to the broccoli instead of to him. It was almost...cute.

"Why did she do that?" she asked, then took a bite, still staring at the vegetables.

Remy chuckled a little to himself and started sweeping. "Think she preferred her menu to mine."

"Imagine that," Rogue drawled and he glanced up at the _normal_ way it sounded.

But she still wasn't looking at him.

"I swear, that food ain't a work of art."

Her head popped up, surprise in the green eyes.

"Didn't take even a moment to make it look pretty." He grinned at her.

Her eyes wandered below his chin and his grin grew wider.

"Toss me that shirt, chère."

Her eyes dropped to the plate again. Her cheeks flushed brightly. "What shirt?"

"The one in the seat next to you." Remy watched her with growing amusement and began plotting the sabotage of the plan _he_ had assigned to Jubilee.

Rogue looked over and tossed the shirt—without looking. It went sailing right over his head and toward the stove.

"Not in the gumbo!"

_Perhaps we should do spaghetti instead,_ Emma offered.

Rogue grimaced. "Oops."


	17. Worn to a Frazzle

A/N: So much for in order. :shakes head at self: At least they're updates, right?

**rogueyroo** (I'll try to update more quickly next time. Promise.), **Hawaiichick** (I think about Lizzieturbo's _Normal_ where she describes how cooking in Liousiana is very much "a guy thing." I just had to write that in.), **fluid degree** (I'll do me level best. :grins: ), **Angie-san** (I'm glad you're enjoying it!), **Rogueslove22** (I think her announcement of their marriage was one of my favorite scenes _ever_ to write. :giggles: I'm thinking on a sequel to this story that it inspired. But no commitments until _All's Fair_ is done. I'd never heard about toilet training a cat until I read one of the Starlight Rescue books where Catman suggests it. I'm having fun. This story has so many inspirations and it's just...fun. I can do whatever in it.), **sharky237** (Yes, I totally get pleasure from his suffering. :snickers: He's a little shocked and displeased to hear this, but hey, I'm the author. There is no escape. :cackles: Well, anyway, I'm glad you're enjoying this story. And I must admit, I make a point of exploring different aspects of Rogue and Remy's dynamics in every fic. If I didn't shake things up, there would be no point in writing that other fic. I like variations on a theme, but not more of the same. Make sense?), **scott has a pole...** (Here! I've updated! I'll try not to take so long next time either.),

**Indigo-Night-Wisp** (If I haven't said it yet: I love you! And of course, I mean that in an entirely platonic, but I must absolutely have a dose of you every so often, kind of way. :grins: ), **PhoenixCrystal** (I really had it out for the cooking. Now, just look out for that divan! :rubs hands together in anticipatory glee: I smell a bonfire, boys and girls!), **Lucida Lownes** (I'm trying to pick on both of them as absolutely much as possible. :grins: ), **CurrentlyIncognito** (I got hooked on Laura in _Asylum_ [I think; I constantly mix that up with _I Get By_: one of them anyway]. She was written so well that I went and found out who she was and then she just popped up here. I'm glad you like her.), **RogueOnFire** (We'll see the birthday party on Wednesday. [It's Tuesday.] And I've got lots and lots in store for _Love and War._ :grins: ), **cuzimaw3som317** (The cat is here to stay! Promise. :grins: And hope to bring more chaos to a chapter near you.), **Chellerbelle** (Well, I'm glad I could cheer you up! Hope everything's good on the other front. I had fun with Remy's checklist. This is my story for checklists. And always glad to bring _you_ giggles. [secret: I study your humor fics for techniques. never used to write humor, don't you know? :winks:]), **XSuicuneX** (Yeah, his secret admirer plan is now about to backfire. :cackles gleefully: Scratch is happy dandy!), **PyrusAngel** (What is soon? Yeah. I'm beginning to think I'm incapable of updating _soon_. :snorts: But anyway, I'm glad you liked it and i'm glad the boys liked the chapter too. I had waaaaaaaay too much fun with that poor gumbo. And I solemnly promise to stay (mostly) away from breakable items. 'kay?)

* * *

**All's Fair**

**Chapter Seventeen: Worn to a Frazzle**

_All's fair in love and war._

* * *

**Day Four, 18th Hour, 7th Minute**

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Rogue. Hanging decorations, twisting streamers across bowers of princess-style white and little pink rosebuds, filling vases with the silk flowers, clearing out all the usual chairs in favor of some of the nicest from the formal dining room (a room the students rarely saw the inside of—at least _some_ of the mansion's beauty should be preserved), until finally she collapsed in a heap on the divan in one corner. Jubilee was already sprawled across the floor in front, and Storm was leaning heavily against the back of one of those chairs. Emma alone remained standing in the very center of the room, looking every bit the unruffled queen she claimed to be, and surveyed the scene with a critical eye.

"It looks nice," she finally conceded, a tad ungraciously.

Rogue managed to look smug. "I like it."

Emma's look soured, but Storm smiled broadly in weary satisfaction. "And now I suppose we can get a bite of supper before gift-wrapping."

Jubilee leaned back her head and whimpered.

"It's not that bad," Emma told the girl unsympathetically. "We've put in only a few hours work and come out with something we're _mostly_ satisfied with that Kitty will like."

Rogue squinted up at Emma. "What about the divan?"

"The what?" Emma cast her a curious glance.

Storm blanched.

Jubilee gasped. "Wait a second! There's no _way_ we can get it out _now!_"

"Get it out?" Emma's eyes finally fell to the culprit Rogue was sitting on.

The divan, a fat, monstrous, ugly blue thing tolerated primarily because there wasn't a more comfortable piece of furniture in the entire house—barring perhaps Remy's bed, as he'd traded out the one his room came with for one more suited to his King-sized, Egyptian cotton taste. Despite this point in its favor, the divan was truly ugly and would ruin the look of all their hard work. Worse, no one had thought of it before they packed in chairs and vases and decorations so that barely a person could squeeze through to the backmost corner, and the divan could certainly _not_ be squeezed out of it.

"Kitty could phase it," Jubilee suggested, eyeing the furniture dubiously.

"Certainly not." Emma glared imperiously. "It's _her_ party."

Storm looked regretful but nodded her agreement. "It would spoil the surprise of the room."

Rogue groaned and curled up on the couch. As if they hadn't already put in enough work. "Throw a sheet over it."

"Rogue!" Storm sounded shocked. "No. We must find a way to get rid of it."

"Have Remy blow it up!"

Jubilee screeched. "Not the divan!" She wrapped her arms protectively about a bit of its cushioned back. "It's the most comfortable seat in the house!"

Long sighs filled the room.

Emma, being of a practical bent, finally said what they all knew. "We must move all the chairs back out. And the table to the side."

Four weary females viewed the task with some chagrin.

Rogue grumbled but pried herself up. "Let's get on it then."

**Day Four, 18th Hour, 42nd Minute**

For the first time in her life, Rogue cussed a solid blue streak, including quite a few ephithets against their resident telekinetic for having the nerve to die on them before Kitty's it-_must_-be-perfect eighteenth birthday.

Jubilee stared at her in horror. No one else batted an eye, still groaning under the various corners and edges of their burden.

So maybe it wasn't the first time Rogue had ever cussed like that (thank Logan, seriously), but it was certainly the first time she'd broken that cardinal rule of etiquette: Thou shalt not speak ill of the dead.

"Come off it, Jubes," she snapped. "It's not like your mouth's always pure." Rogue stretched a little further, trying to gain some purchase on the back corner of the divan from hell.

Jubilee closed her mouth with an audible clack.

Storm sighed and leaned heavily on the furniture. "This _is_ rather—"

Rogue shrieked as the added weight threw the precariously balanced divan into a dangerous wobble.

"Oh no!" Emma tried to catch it, but it was too late.

It flipped up and fell—on top of Rogue.

She couldn't figure out who to kill first: Jubilee for the distraction, Storm for _leaning_ on the divan, or Emma for failing to catch it.

"Oh dear," was Storm's brilliant addition to the conversation.

Rogue closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and started counting down from a thousand.

"This is ridiculous!" Emma declared. "I'm calling Remy."

Naturally, this meant an all-out assault on every brain in a fifty-yard radius under her mental shout:

_Remy!_

Rogue quit counting and glared. "I _hate_ telepaths!"

**Day Four, 19th Hour, 53rd Minute**

It took both Remy and Piotr to lift the doomed piece of furniture off of Rogue.

"Move it outside while you're at it," Storm ordered, less imperious than usual and much more miffed.

Jubilee, Emma, Rogue, _and_ Storm joined in giving it dark glares.

"We ought to burn it," Rogue decided.

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Should we now?"

Jubilee bit her lip. "But it's so comfor—"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you," Emma said.

The younger girl fell silent and backed away warily, eyes wide.

Rogue collapsed in a weary heap in the nearest chair and waved her hand imperiously. "On your way, Remy, can you pick up my library holds?"

He stared at her as if he could not believe his ears.

"They're just sitting in my box in the library here, for goodness' sake!" She crossed her arms and glared at him. "Are you or are you not my slave?"

It was Piotr's turn to look startled.

Remy's jaw tightened. "Oui."

"_Thank_ you."

The other girls just looked blank-faced and innocent until the boys had exited. Emma broke the silence first, giggling like a young schoolgirl, and then it was over. Every last one of them collapsed in peals of laughter until they could barely breathe from the scattered chairs at Kitty's birthday table.

**Day Four, 23rd Hour, 16th Minute**

Rogue stayed up late working on Kitty's presents, being one of the very few that hadn't begun by buying the _exact_ same pair of shoes everyone else thought of. Being Kitty's roommate could have posed a problem, but she solved it handily by wrapping in the back corner of the library, a place Kitty had sworn off forever after three ranting diatribes about the computer section's inadequate resources for _anything_.

Her eyelids kept shutting on her, and she had to slap her cheeks to keep herself awake. Only the fact that she was hiding from Kitty kept her quiet through a dozen misapplied pieces of tape, two ruined sheets of wrapping paper, and the tissue paper she had to rescue from Scratch by swatting at his paws.

"You promised to behave!" she hissed.

He mewed and curled up in a ball on her lap to pur throatily.

And there she was, helpless mush again. "Oh all right. You can stay." She cuddled him with one hand and launched her third assault on a pink and white gift bag. Who would have thought it could be so hard to just _bag_ something?

But her eyes continued to droop and her head began to nod, and eventually both girl and kitten lay sleeping on the library floor.


End file.
